Illusions
by CodeNameFlashlight
Summary: Atlantis is back on Earth, and Rodney and Jennifer are getting married. When a ghost from their past threatens their happiness, it's up to the combined forces of Atlantis and the SGC to figure it out. Crossover with Stargate: SG-1. Compete!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** theicemenace and ladygris own nothing related to Stargate: SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis. Any original characters and locations, however, are the property (and fault) of the authors and are not intended to represent a living person or real place…not purposely. ;-)

**A/N:** Welcome to the first ever collaborative effort between ladygris and theicemenace writing under the pseudonym "CodeNameFlashlight."

This story is an SG-1/SGA crossover with lg writing the SG-1 storyline and Ice doing her best to write the SGA action. We will be posting one chapter a week (on Mondays) with alternating POV beginning with a preview/teaser/prologue.

So get yourself a cup of coffee, water, tea, beer or other beverage of your choice, bring all chair backs into the upright position, and hang on for a wild ride!

~lg & Ice~

**Illusions**

**Prologue**

"Dr. Rodney McKay, you are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Peter Kavanagh. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" The cuffs were snapped around Rodney's wrists while his family, wife and friends looked on in horror.

"I…" Rodney was so staggered at what was happening to him he could barely talk. "Yes. Yes, I do. But I didn't…I didn't kill him." The detectives ignored his attempts to proclaim his innocence.

"What are you _doing?_" Jennifer, still in her wedding gown, clutched at Rodney's sleeve, panic in her eyes and voice. John came forward to stand next to her, his jaw clenching with the need to suppress the desire to punch out the cops dragging his just married friend off to jail. "John! Mr. Woolsey! _Do_ something! How can they think Rodney would kill _anyone_, even Kavanagh?"

Jennifer tried to hold onto to Rodney, to keep him from being taken away, but the female detective stepped between them. She jerked her hands free and stepped to the side to go around her, but John wrapped his arms around her as she struggled against his strength. The doors of the cruiser slammed and the last thing they saw was Rodney's face looking out the back window as it pulled into traffic.

"It'll be okay, doc."

"How do you _know?_ He…he won't survive if he has to stay there." Now angry, she pushed away from John just as her father walked up.

"Jenn? I'm so sorry, honey. From what I've heard, this Kavanagh person was not very sociable."

"That's putting it lightly, Dad." She went to her father and was enveloped in his comforting embrace, her voice choking. "He didn't do it. He _couldn't!_" Gripping him tight, she let the tears flow.

Richard Keller rubbed his daughter's back in attempt to comfort her even knowing it was impossible. Her husband of just a few hours had been arrested as they left their wedding reception. The only way to soothe that ache was for Rodney to be released. "I know. Rodney's a good man. Something like this just isn't a part of his personality."

Behind her, John conferred quietly with Woolsey, Ronon, Teyla, Jeannie and Kaleb. Woolsey had a few words with the bell captain and a short time later, a four-door sedan pulled up to the curb. The expedition commander got in and it followed in the wake of the cruiser that had taken her husband away.

~~O~~

Agent Malcolm Barrett had never been one of Daniel's favorite people. He liked the guy well enough on a personal level, and he respected the man. His ability to overcome Ba'al's brainwashing was well-known at the SGC, and most people looked at Barrett with the same level of awe that they often looked at Daniel. But Barrett was still NID, and that, alone, lowered that opinion. The NID had caused more than its fair share of trouble for the SGC, leading most of the personnel to avoid them at all costs. Which usually undid any hero worship Barrett received.

Avoidance wasn't an option today, apparently. Daniel blinked at Barrett, trying to figure out why the NID agent stood in his office door. "Agent Barrett!" He stood. "What brings you down here?"

"Well, I was actually looking for General Landry or Colonel Mitchell, but I've been told they've both gone home for the night."

Daniel frowned. "What? What time is it?" He squinted at his watch. Midnight. Why wasn't he surprised? "Sorry about that. Is there something _I_ can do to help?"

"Actually, there is." Barrett stepped fully into the office and held out a file for Daniel to take. "As you know, the NID keeps track of all Trust activities that we know about. That includes who works for them and what those operatives are doing at all times. With your investigation into Dr. Kavanagh's murder starting to stray into Trust territory, I figured you'd want to take a look at our most recent list."

Daniel opened the file and started flipping through it. Each page had the picture of a known Trust operative and his or her vital info, sort of a mini-dossier on each one. Daniel dismissed the first three pages, having never seen any of the individuals before. But, he froze when he saw the fourth page. "You're sure about these people?"

"As sure as we can be when dealing with the Trust. Why?" Barrett moved to the desk, craning his neck to look at the page that Daniel held.

Daniel skimmed over the pertinent information, his heart sinking. This was big. It affected him, his team, and his girlfriend. Handing it to Barrett, he sighed. "Because that is Colonel Mitchell's girlfriend."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So this is the first full chapter of the first collaboration of ladygris and yours truly, theicemenace. Hope everyone enjoys it. Read on and don't forget to review.

Oh, and thanks to lg for the Beta!

Namaste,

~Sandy

**Illusions**

**Chapter One**

**A Few Months Ago…**

**Las Vegas**

**Odyssey Casino**

The inside of the Odyssey Casino was like any other casino in Las Vegas, noisy, crowded, flashy and gaudy. Three stages were roped off with signs indicating the acts that would be appearing that night, none of them big enough names to draw the attentions of the three men and one woman seated at a table near the bar. All but one had an alcoholic beverage in front of them, the man in charge. He didn't condone the consumptions of mind altering substances though he didn't discourage it amongst his employees.

His hair was dark brown, slicked back from his forehead, eyes the blue-gray of a cloudy sky with a lean physique and an almost constant scowl. He wore faded jeans, a plaid shirt and sneakers. And though he gave the impression of being bored and oblivious to the activity around him as well as the conversation from his companions, it was a lie, just like his appearance. Everything he saw and heard registered within his vast intelligence, each piece of information included in his calculations.

He knew where all the cameras were as well as the location and patrol area of each guard. The owners and managers probably thought their security discreet, but not to someone who knew where to look.

In addition to his ability to perform complex calculations in his head, he also had an eidetic memory. He laughed at the phrase "absent-minded professor." To be able to succeed in his chosen profession, you had to remember everything because any piece of information, no matter how trivial it may seem at the time, could be the one thing that gives you your _eureka_ moment.

Uncrossing his legs, he pushed away from the table and stood, the signal that the others should as well. "You know what to do. We meet at the rendezvous in three hours."

They bid each other a good night as if they were going home for the evening, the woman and one of the men staying together.

Going to the window, he exchanged cash for tokens and went to play the slots. Seventh from the right, third row, farthest from the main bar. Jiggling the tokens in his cup, he sat down on the stool provided and began playing.

**A Few Weeks Later**

"I told you I don't _know_. Jennifer won't _tell_ me." Rodney McKay huffed at John Sheppard while Teyla and Ronon looked on. He couldn't tell if they knew what was going on or not. Never could with them unless they told you.

"And you're gonna just go along with whatever it is she has planned?" John sipped his coffee then took a bite of his toast.

"Well, yeah." The physicist looked at his friend as though he were dimwitted. "Look, I know it isn't like me to, you know, just take off without being completely prepared. I'm just sayin' Jennifer has a surprise planned for my birthday and, well, I'm ready to try out the new me, the one that's spontaneous and spur-of-the-moment." He paused, his teammates staring at him in shock. "As long as I know beforehand if there'll be allergens or citrus involved. You can never be too careful, I always say."

Ronon snorted, the sound echoed by John. "This from the guy who blew up an entire solar system."

Rodney rolled his eyes as he balled up his napkin and threw it in his plate. "Five-_sixths_. It's _not_ an exact science. Several of the moons belonging to the outermost planet survived."

"It is good that the planets were no longer inhabited, Rodney, or our trial in front of the Coalition would have ended much differently," Teyla pointed out.

The air of humor that had pervaded the conversation disappeared. "Especially when you consider their methods of execution." Rodney shivered with the memory of the fear that he might never have seen Jennifer or his family again if Woolsey hadn't intervened. He stood, tucked his computer under his arm and picked up his tray. "I have a lot of work to do before we leave so I'll see you later."

~~O~~

Excitement fueled Jennifer's walk through the city to her room. She and Rodney would soon be leaving for Las Vegas to celebrate his birthday. With Woolsey's help, she'd been able to get tickets to one of the hottest shows in town. And as a bonus, Woolsey got backstage passes so they could meet the performers. Rodney _would_ be thrilled, she just knew it.

All she had was casual clothing. She'd have to go shopping before their dinner reservations at Vesuvius. This night was special and she had to have just the right outfit. Eye-catching without being too over the top.

Shouldering her bag, she made a quick mental check that she had everything she needed and pronounced her list complete. Anything else could be purchased there. Stepping out into the hall, she was nearly run down by Rodney as he jogged to his room. She followed him.

"Sorry I'm late. Zelenka…never mind. I'll be ready soon."

"You need to hurry! They're leaving in a few minutes and if we're not there, they aren't going to wait for us."

"I know!"

Rather than stand inside Rodney's room while he packed-he'd just get sidetracked-Jennifer elected to pace in front of his door checking her watch every few seconds. She was just about to remind him again to hurry when the door opened. He took her hand and they ran down to the transporter. When they got to the Gate Room they ran up the stairs to the Jumper Bay to see the hatch just starting to close.

~~O~~

"Jumper three, you have a go," Chuck told the pilot just as Jennifer and Rodney ran up the stairs.

At the top he heard Jennifer call out, "Wait!"

Leaning on the edge of his workstation console, Chuck shook his head and chuckled. "Happy birthday, Dr. McKay."

Beside him, Amelia glared. "You didn't remember _my_ birthday."

Plopping down in his chair, the Canadian avoided Amelia's gaze by getting back to work. "Sure about that?"

"It's after _lunch_ and you haven't said one word about…" Amelia's cut off when a brightly colored package tied with a bow was thrust under her nose. She followed the hand holding it back to the source and found Chuck grinning at her.

"Happy birthday, 'Melia."

"Thanks." Taking the gift from him, she set it aside. Glancing over her shoulder at their co-workers, she saw that they were all occupied for the moment. They always spoke softly to each other when working to avoid disturbing the others. Lowering her voice even more, Amelia leaned to the side. "Sure you don't want to hand deliver it later?"

He kept his eyes on his work, fingers tapping the keys so fast they were a blur. "Oh, there's nothing in the box."

"There isn't?" Amelia couldn't keep the indignation from her tone.

"Nope. The real gift I'll bring to your quarters tonight."

"Do I get a hint?"

The side of his face closest to her grinned. "How does dinner and dancing sound?"

"Romantic." Woolsey's footsteps came toward them.

"The usual time?"

"Yes. And don't be late."

His eyes flicked to her and back to his monitor, the grin still in place. "Never."

~~O~~

Checking his look in the mirror, Rodney adjusted his tie and brushed imaginary lint from the sleeves and front of his suit jacket. He turned as the light flicked off in the bathroom. The door opened and he forgot out to breathe for several moments. Standing in front of him was the most beautiful sight he'd seen in a long time: Jennifer. He thought her beautiful at all times, but now she was beyond stunning.

Her black dress might have seemed plain on anyone else, but on her it looked elegant. The off-the-shoulder design left her shoulders and neck bare. And the soft material fit her curves as if made for them. Alluring without being overly done. The hemline ended three inches above her knees and her simple heels brought the top of her head even with Rodney's forehead.

She hung a small handbag with a long gold chain over her shoulder and picked up lacy black shawl with small gold beads. "Ready to go? Rodney?"

"Uh, yes. Of course." He took the shawl and draped it over her shoulders letting his hands linger on her upper arms for just a moment then followed her out into the corridor. "You look amazing."

Jennifer tucked her hand around his left elbow and briefly rested her head on his shoulder while they waited for the elevator. "Thanks. Not so bad yourself."

"Ready to tell me where we're going?"

"Dinner at Vesuvius then off to see a show."

Her voice and smile told him it was something extra special. "That's one of the most exclusive restaurants in town. How did you get reservations? They're usually booked up for months in advance."

That secretive smile widened. "I know a guy."

Rodney huffed. "Woolsey."

"No. John. His sister-in-law knows the owner." The elevator opened and they got on.

In the lobby, they went to the concierge desk. The woman tapped the headset in her right ear. "Bring Dr. Keller's car please."

A man in an elegant and uncomfortable looking uniform came to escort them to the limo holding the door and tipping his hat. He gave instructions to the driver and the long black car pulled out into traffic.

~~O~~

Night in Atlantis was Chuck's favorite time of day and not just because could spend the evening with the woman he loved. It was quieter at night, voices were muted as if the darkness itself muffled the sounds.

One last look in the mirror then he grabbed the small box from his desk drawer and shoved it into his pocket on the way out. Arriving at Amelia's room at the same time as the kitchen worker with the meal he'd asked them to make, he checked the time and at exactly 2000, announced his presence.

The door opened immediately and he was greeted by an Amelia he knew existed but hadn't seen before tonight. She stood just inside the room. Candles on many of the surfaces lent a soft glow that danced and swayed with the breezes from the environmental systems. It was early enough that the moons weren't up yet, but it didn't matter. Usually, Chuck loved to just stand with his arms around Amelia and just watch the moon, stars and water. But tonight, he only had eyes for the woman.

She wore a dress that hugged her curves down to the bottoms of her thighs then flared out just a little. A ruffle undulated around the bottom fluttering as she moved. And the color. A dark green that enhanced the green of her eyes making them look like emeralds in the dim light. Her hair was loose around her shoulders hanging straight to the middle of her back. It too swayed as she moved.

"Wow." His mouth turned up in a smile of greeting as he completely forgot about the food cart and took her in his arms for a hot kiss. She kissed him back with equal passion then pulled out of his arms to rescue the food cart before the door closed. "It's your big day, 'Melia. Eat first or present first?"

"Mmm. Present. That way I can admire it all through dinner."

"Sounds like a plan." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out a small black box. Flipping it open, he revealed a simple gold band with a single white diamond. His eyes came back to Amelia's face and almost laughed at the expression. She had both hands over her mouth and her eyes were comically wide. "Surely this doesn't come as a surprise."

"I…yeah. Kinda." Her words were slightly muffled.

"So what do you say? Marry me?"

Amelia looked from him to the ring and back several times then finally extended her left hand so he could slide the ring over her third finger. "Yes."

She threw her arms around his neck and dinner was forgotten as they tumbled onto the bed.

~~O~~

Filled with the best Italian food he'd eaten in years, including wine and dessert, Rodney lolled in the back seat of the limo holding Jennifer's hand. He was so full, all he wanted to do was go back to the hotel and sleep, but she'd spent so much time making plans for his birthday that he couldn't disappoint her.

They arrived at their next destination just in time to keep him from falling asleep. And once he saw where they were, all vestiges of fatigue vanished.

The marque proudly announced the theme for the show. A line came out the front door and down the sidewalk. Considering how the night had gone so far, Rodney wasn't worried that they'd have to stand in that line and he was right.

The valet helped Rodney and Jennifer from the limo then escorted them to the Will-Call window. Jennifer had a few words with the man and soon another man came out to take them inside. He seated them at a table in front of the stage, they ordered drinks and a few minutes later, the house lights went down.

The emcee came out in a tux, a tiny mic attached to his lapel. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to opening night for…" he paused for dramatic music that was familiar to the audience, "…Batman: The Musical. Prepare yourself to be amazed and astounded at the escapades of the Dynamic Duo and Batgirl." Applause thundered through the room. "Yes, all three of our heroes will be with us tonight as we follow them on their quest to rid Gotham City of The Riddler, The Joker, Catwoman, and many other villains."

The curtain opened and the emcee faded into the shadows at stage left.

~~O~~

Jennifer and Rodney joined the select few who got to meet the performers. Now they were awaiting their turn to sit in the Batmobile. His arm was around her waist as she shivered in the chill of the air conditioning. As he'd done on their first date, he removed his jacket and helped her into it. She smiled up at him lovingly and went back to watching the gamblers with awe and something like…she wasn't sure what the emotion was. Rodney seemed to take all the hustle and bustle in stride, as if he'd seen it all before and he probably had. But she couldn't for the life of her imagine herself spending hours sitting in front of a slot machine, Blackjack table or Roulette wheel hoping to make a big score. She wouldn't have even brought Rodney to Las Vegas except that he was a big Batman fan and she knew he'd love to see the show making it worth every minute and every dollar she'd spent to make it happen.

She felt Rodney stiffen next to her and not in a good way. "Rodney?"

"Hmm?"

His tone was the same one he used when he was onto something, up to something or an idea had been sparked in that enormous brain of his. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Stay here. I need to see a man about…"

What he said was lost as he dove into the crowd and was swallowed up. Jennifer tip-toed trying to see where he'd gone, but she lost him in the crowd. After about fifteen minutes, she thought about going to look for him when she heard his voice above the voices of the patrons, bells and clacking of the games. He was arguing with someone.

She followed Rodney's angry tones and as she got closer, she recognized the man he was speaking to and she too began to get angry. The last time she'd seen this particular person, she'd slapped his face so hard the imprint of her hand had glared bright red on his cheek. His eyes held that same glare now as it had then. Jennifer didn't know how someone so intelligent could be so unlikable. No, not unlikable. He was loathed and despised almost universally by the entire Atlantis expedition.

Rodney and Peter Kavanagh had drawn a small crowd. Most seemed to be watching out of boredom rather than curiosity. She joined them cringing at the things they were saying to each other though they did have the presence of mind to be careful not to reveal the existence of the SGC in this very public place.

~~O~~

"…just mind your own _business_, McKay. I don't work for you anymore. You, Weir, Sheppard and O'Neill saw to that."

"And this is how you're making your living now?" Lowering his voice, Rodney glared. "I _know_ what you're doing and it had better _stop._"

Kavanagh snorted, spreading his hands out in front of him. "Or _what?_ You'll turn me in? You have no proof of my _supposed_ activities. No one will believe you."

"I'll have you know…" Rodney could barely keep his irritation under control, both hands curled into fists. He raised one to emphasize his point only to have Jennifer take hold of it.

"Rodney." He faced her, the stiffness in his shoulders and back easing at the pleading in her brown eyes. "Please. Let's just go."

"Fine." Taking her hand, the turned away from the smugness twisting Kavanagh's mouth. That is until he spoke again.

"Still letting a _woman_ fight your fights for you, I see. Keller has you so _whipped_ it's a wonder you can go to the _john_ alone, McKay."

Dropping Jennifer's hand, Rodney turned back ready to slam his fist into the other man's face to wipe away the arrogant and superior attitude. He'd only taken one step when Jennifer took hold of his arm again.

"No, Rodney! He's not worth getting into trouble over."

"You're right. Let's go. I'm finished here anyway."

Rodney let Jennifer lead him toward the main entrance of the casino. While they waited for their limo to arrive, he looked down at the woman he loved. "Sorry. I ruined your perfect birthday gift."

"You can make it up to me later."

"You're not mad?"

"At you? A little. But Kavanagh…how someone can be so…grrr!"

The look on her face was so comical he couldn't help but laugh and a moment later, she did too. "So what's next?"

Again that smirk of hers was back. She stood in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, his hands resting on her waist. "Back to the hotel and to bed for both of us."

"But I'm not sleepy now."

She grinned then reached up to kiss him. "Didn't say we were going to sleep, honey."

The limo arrived before he could make a response though none was needed. They climbed into the car and it pulled away from the curb to be replaced by another nearly identical.

But what they didn't see was Kavanagh standing just inside the front door glaring at them. He might have been considered attractive if it weren't for the twist of disgust on his face. Turning away, he went back to what he'd been doing when Rodney had interrupted him.

~~O~~

Scooting out from under Jennifer's arm so he wouldn't wake her, Rodney quietly gathered up his clothes and went into the bathroom where he quickly dressed. Taking the remote from his pocket, he clicked the recall code and a moment later he appeared in the Gate Room of Atlantis still strapping his watch onto his left wrist.

John came striding into the area with Ronon at his side both covered in perspiration. "Back so soon, Rodney? You and Keller have a fight?"

"No." He pushed between them and kept on walking, John and Ronon hurrying to keep up. "If you must know, I goofed up last night. Jennifer took me to this really _incredible_ show and I got distracted and missed the best part."

"Stripper? Lap dancer? Drag queen?"

"No, no and _God_ no!"

"Then what?" Ronon's tone was the same as if he'd been asking if the sun was shining.

Rodney stepped into the transporter followed by his friends. "Kavanagh."

Huffing, John looked like he wanted to hit something. "Every time we think he's gone, he's back."

"_And_ he's up to no good."

Ronon snorted. "Always is."

"Yeah, but this time it's worse." Rodney didn't stop walking until he got to his room. Opening and closing drawers, he gave John and Ronon a quick rundown of what he'd seen followed by a longer version of what he suspected.

John jammed his fists into his hips. "You turn him in?"

"Can't." Closing his hand around the object he'd come for, Rodney shoved it into his pocket.

"Why not?"

Again Rodney took off, and again John and Ronon dogged his footsteps. "Because he was right. I _don't_ have proof. Just my genius for detecting patterns where none seems to exist."

"So what's the plan for making it up to Keller?"

At the transporter, Rodney stepped in and turned to face his friends, blocking the doorway so they couldn't get in. "I'm proposing." He tapped the screen and the door shut in their faces.

~~O~~

John stared at the closed transporter door thoughtfully then made a slow about face. "Come on, Chewy."

"Where we goin'?"

"To plan a bachelor party."

"Why you?"

Waving his arms as if it were obvious, John headed for his office. "I'm the best man."

"He didn't say."

"Who else _would_ it be?"

Ronon waved a hand as if the answer were obvious. "Beckett."

"Naw." Shaking his head, John slipped behind his desk and booted up the computer. "It's me."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I do promise that this plays into the overall theme. Thanks to theicemenace for the beta on this! Enjoy! ~lg

~~O~~

The first time Daniel saw her, she was juggling keys, several notebooks, two actual books, a purse, and a laptop case. To be fair, it wasn't so much a laptop case as it was a large purse with a laptop shoved sideways into it. Seeing the pending disaster headed his way, Daniel grabbed the door of the coffee shop and opened it. If she could get inside by herself, he'd offer to help her carry things to her table.

A quick glance upward revealed startled blue-gray eyes as she gave him a friendly smile. "Thanks!"

"My pleasure," he said as the computer lost its precarious position and slipped forward in its case. She tried to compensate, but that upset the books she was carrying. A hardcover book landed corner-first on his toe as two notebooks and the other book followed. "Ow."

Her eyes went wide, and she flushed in embarrassment. "I am _so_ sorry!"

"No, don't be." Daniel started to pick up the books but stopped when she snatched them up. He'd worn his sneakers from the base, having intended only to stop for coffee and then head home. Now that he'd succeeded in making this poor girl feel horrible, he figured the least he could do was hang out for a few moments and reassure her. With both of them inside the deserted coffee shop, he reached for the books. "Let me take those for you."

"Thanks," she said for a second time, though with a lot less enthusiasm. "I really do apologize. I don't go out of my way to dump my books onto unsuspecting strangers, so this is really, really. . .awkward."

Daniel stifled a chuckle. She reminded him of how Dr. Novak had been during the ill-fated mission on board the _Prometheus_. That was when he'd met Vala, and _that_ was a whole different headache. He decided to ignore it for a bit. "Seriously, it's fine." He rolled his eyes. "You don't know how many times I've been run over by someone paying more attention to their files than where they're going." _Or how many times I've run over someone for the same thing_, he added silently.

She finally got control over the computer and stuck out her hand. "Rebekah Jacobs."

He shook her hand, liking the direct, friendly way she'd introduced herself. "Daniel Jackson."

"Since I did just nearly break your toe with my books, can I at least buy you a cup of coffee as an apology?"

Daniel almost said no, but the genuine remorse on her face stopped him. She wasn't trying to come on to him or flirt, just to repair a perceived slight. He smiled. "Sure."

"What would you like?"

"Sumatra Mandehling. One cream, two sugars."

She grinned. "Good choice."

"I know." He grinned and motioned over his shoulder. "Just tell me where you'd like these, and I'll wait for you over there."

She pointed to a grouping of tables in the back and turned to the counter. Daniel carried the books to the table and settled back on his heels to watch her. Rebekah Jacobs was a contradiction. Now that she'd recovered her poise, she'd lost her awkwardness. Her movements were graceful, and she laughed readily with the barista. The two women chatted as the coffee was made, leading Daniel to believe Rebekah came in here often. A quick glance at the books surprised him. _Writing Crime Dramas_ and _The Complete Novelist's Guide to Plotting_ wasn't something he'd picture her using. In an ankle-length blue skirt that swirled around her, a white peasant's blouse, and her straight brown hair loose, she reminded him of a college student.

"Here you are, Mr. Jackson," she said as she returned to the table with their drinks.

Daniel actually snickered at that. He hadn't been called "Mr. Jackson" in years. "Just Daniel." He accepted the coffee and motioned to her books. "What are you up do? If I can be so bold."

That uncertain look crept back onto her face. "Um. . .a writer's group." She shrugged sheepishly. "I'm the only one who consistently finishes stories and publishes them, so they asked me to do a series of writing clinics and share my secrets. I had wanted to be here about thirty minutes ago, but work kept me late."

"So you're published?"

She wagged her head from side to side. "In a manner of speaking. I publish online. I don't make money, but I do have an international readership. So, to me, it's a trade off."

"Readers or money?"

"Exactly." She pulled out a chair and sat down, looking vaguely surprised when he did as well.

"Have you ever thought about publishing for money?"

"I have, but then it would be work. Not an escape." Rebekah's face changed so quickly that Daniel blinked. Up until now, she'd had a friendly smile that caused her eyes to sparkle. Her hair was pulled back in a simple yet elegant ponytail, though wisps of hair fell around her face and brushed her cheekbones. He'd first estimated her age around twenty-three, twenty-five at the most. But she suddenly aged in those few seconds.

He propped his elbows on the table, barely stopping himself from taking her hand. "Hey, I'm sorry if I said anything wrong."

"You didn't." She forced a smile and let out a deep breath. "It was just a bad day."

"Yeah, I know what those are like." He looked around. "So, how many people are in this writer's group of yours?"

"There's about five of us that are at every meeting, but I don't know how many will be here tonight."

"Mind one more?"

"You?"

"I was thinking about it." And he honestly was. In the years he'd been with the Stargate Program, he'd never really developed many hobbies outside of work. Granted, life in the SGC didn't allow for many off duty pursuits. But, for some reason, this woman fascinated him. He wanted to see how she'd handle herself around her friends and peers. He pushed away the little voice in the back of his head that said he just needed some time off. He didn't need time off, just something else to focus on for a bit besides Vala and her latest adventure off world.

Rebekah genuinely smiled. "You are most welcome to stay, Daniel."

The coffee shop filled up shortly after that. About seven others appeared for the writer's clinic, only one of them male. And that guy—kid, really—couldn't have been much older than nineteen or twenty. Daniel sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee as the middle-aged women started chattering about stories, plots, love interests, and vampires. He blinked at that last one and gave up trying to follow the conversation.

The young kid nudged his arm. "They're hilarious, aren't they?"

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. They seem to really like what they're talking about."

"Maybe." The kid shrugged. "I come 'cause my mom makes me." The pouty tone of his voice told Daniel he'd overestimated his age.

Rebekah stood and called the meeting to order. Daniel watched her closely, seeing how nervous she was in the way she twisted her fingers together and fiddled with one of her notebooks as she opened it. But, as she started talking, she lost her nervousness. He found himself drawn in to what she was saying, thoroughly enjoying her enthusiasm and confidence. This woman truly understood how to write. She spoke from the heart while giving the group very practical information. Her eyes darted to where Daniel listened, and she always seemed to flush every time he smiled. Deciding not to dwell on the reasons why, he instead grinned when she gave everyone homework.

So, he hadn't made it home. But, he left the coffee shop feeling better than he had in a long time. And, for the first time in years, Daniel began to think about former dreams of writing some of his adventures before he joined the Stargate Program.

~~O~~

Rebekah Jacobs had never been the most organized woman in the world, but she'd never been known as clumsy. As a result, her little gaffe at the door of the coffee shop threw her more than she cared to admit. Her awkward conversation with Daniel Jackson, offering to buy him coffee, and then seeing him stick around for what must have been a pitiful writing clinic just reinforced her single status in her mind. Besides, he didn't look like the kind who went for slightly geeky, lonely mid-thirties women who preferred styles closer to the sixties and seventies than modern day. He probably went in for women in their twenties who were a lot more cosmopolitan than Rebekah had ever hoped to be.

Still, seeing him at the table was a pleasure as she taught. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a black polo shirt, topped off with a light coffee-brown jacket that seemed to make his blue eyes stand out even more. And, if that wasn't enough, he wore these stylish, rectangular glasses that just drew attention to his face and perfectly framed those eyes. He had a grace about him that reminded her of her brother's military training, and, for just a moment, she could imagine Daniel wearing fatigues and toting a gun.

At _that_ point, she reigned in her thoughts and focused entirely on the writing clinic. She did not need to get distracted fantasizing about a man she didn't even know while trying to teach a group of friends how to plot out a story and then write it.

Finally, she finished the forty-five minutes of teaching she'd prepared and gave them all their homework assignment. Daniel had visited for a few moments with Amy's seventeen-year-old son, but he'd spent most of the time either watching the women around him or listening closely. Rebekah was surprised when he wrote down her assignment to write a complete one-shot with original characters who had an issue to work out. The homework idea came from several comments about how her friends didn't understand her methods for planning these moments and how to get out of them. Most of them just let their characters bury the anger and then gave up because they couldn't figure out how to have an argument that advanced the story. It all came down to planning, in Rebekah's mind, and she grinned when she saw the panic on the faces around her.

"So, Beks." Marina Gonzales, her closest friend in Colorado Springs, grinned as Rebekah cringed. "What's with the hottie?" She gave a not-so-subtle nod to where Daniel and Amy's son were still chatting.

Rebekah flushed. "First of all, don't call me that! Secondly, he's a poor guy I dumped my books on as I came through the door. We struck up a conversation, and he decided to stay."

"Go you!" Marina was the only other single woman in the group, but she enjoyed flirting and the thrill of "the chase." None of her relationships had any real commitment to them, and Marina was happy with that for now. "So, think he'll be back?"

"I don't know." Rebekah shrugged. "It wasn't like I invited him to join us. Not that I'm complaining, but most guys I've known don't stick around after I mangle their feet by dropping books."

"You really don't look in the mirror often, do you?" Marina glanced to the side. "Here he comes! I want details!" She turned to visit with Amy.

Rebekah rolled her eyes as Daniel approached her. She'd finally found a measure of calm before Marina's little outburst, and now she wondered if he'd overheard what her friend had said. She smiled up at him. "Thanks for staying."

"Oh, it was fun." His voice stayed even, but the expression on his face and his smile were genuine. "How often are you having these clinics?"

She shrugged. "Every Thursday evening for as long as I can keep working with them. I have a whole list of topics they want me to cover. Arguments in stories, keeping them real, and planning for them was the first topic. Others include long-term plotting, how to stay intrigued when you know everything that's going to happen, and allowing your characters to just be themselves."

Daniel grinned again, and it made his eyes sparkle. "You teach well."

Rebekah blushed. Again. "Thanks. I've never done something like this, so it's a little nerve-wracking."

"Well, let's just say you've got the basics of teaching or presenting anything down. Eye contact, knowledge of your subject, and sincere love for that subject."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that experience talking?"

"Yeah." He straightened. "Listen, I'll try to be back next week, but I make no guarantees. I travel a lot for work, and these trips can come up rather suddenly."

Rebekah grinned rather than narrowing her eyes again. Something in the way he'd said that seemed a bit. . .off. Almost like he was deliberately downplaying something. "I understand. I'll try not to bean your feet with books next time I see you."

"Deal." He stuck out his hand. "It was really nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Daniel." Rebekah watched him walk away and toss his empty coffee cup in the trash. The man was a good six feet tall, and she could tell that his comfort in his own skin wasn't faked. Daniel Jackson knew who he was, what he was, and was happy with it. It didn't hurt that he was also the most attractive man she'd seen in a long time.

Marina chose that moment to appear again. "So, Beks, you've _gotta_ give me your secret for landing men like that!"

Rebekah rolled her eyes at her friend. "Oh, shut up!"

~~O~~

One week later, Daniel walked into the same coffee shop wearing steel-toed boots. He'd grinned as he dressed for this little outing, remembering how embarrassed Rebekah had been over dropping books on him. Vala had caught his grin, but Daniel kept the story private.

Thinking about Vala made him think about his story. This week, he carried a single composition book, similar to his journals, and had a pen tucked into his pocket. He'd been honest when he told Rebekah that her talk was fun. She had a way of making the art of writing come alive for others, and the passion she had for the subject. . . .He understood now why she wouldn't want to make that a job. Beyond that, she reminded him of himself when he really warmed up to a topic he loved.

The week since that first clinic had been packed with back-to-back missions, translations, and fusses with Vala. With Sam reassigned to the _General Hammond_, Vala had no one to really spend much time with outside of the guys on base. As a result, she bugged Daniel more than usual—if that was possible—and that often resulted in moments when he just wanted to lock himself in his office. In fact, he had at one point in time, pulling out the new composition book and writing a one-shot, as Rebekah called it, about how Derick and Valerie—his new names for himself and Vala—got into an argument and got out of it by agreeing to never speak to one another again. It was childish, and he knew it. But he felt _so_ much better when he was done that he went back and spent the next two evenings revising and editing. Writing was something he did on a regular basis for his job, but this was the first time he'd really branched into fiction. He found it therapeutic.

Feeling worn out from his mission earlier that day, Daniel stepped up to the counter and ordered a large iced coffee, black. Summer was settling into Colorado Springs, and he'd just spent the entire morning on a desert planet. As he paid for his coffee, he ironically thought that his job as an archaeologist helped explain the odd sunburns and various injuries. He could easily say he'd gone on a dig and not have everyone wondering why he had sunburns in the middle of winter. Vala swore it did wonders for his image, but Daniel could not have cared less. He and Vala were barely on speaking terms right now, especially after her little stunt that morning. She just seemed intent on either annoying him to the point he strangled her or bugging him to the point he went certifiably insane.

More irritated than he should have been, Daniel offered the barista a friendly smile and picked up his coffee. The shop was noisy this afternoon, primarily due to two young mothers trying to enjoy a quick cup of coffee while corralling two toddlers. Daniel figured he could ignore the noise for the badly-needed coffee and hoped they'd settle a bit before the writing class began. He needed to focus on something other than his crazy life at the SGC. This writing clinic—and Rebekah's knowledgeable teaching—sounded just like the outlet he needed.

~~O~~

Rebekah arrived at the coffee shop about twenty minutes before her clinic was set to begin. The place served the best soups around, and she intended to take some time to herself. The day had been a long one, spent in training sessions and trying to impress her bosses at work. She couldn't be certain that she'd done so, but she needed that raise. Badly. If not, she would have to find a way to take a second job and still have a life.

_Yeah, some life you have if the most exciting thing in the last week was Daniel Jackson crashing your writing clinic,_ her mind snickered. Rebekah rolled her eyes as she pulled open the door. It was true. Her life consisted of going to work and then going home to write. Marina would say she needed some adventure and, for the first time in a long time, Rebekah agreed.

She had barely walked into the coffee shop when the tall man at the counter turned around with his drink in his hand. At the same time, a toddler darted in front of him. He tried to sidestep the toddler, tripping over the card rack. Rebekah tried to sidestep the man and ran into the toddler. Somehow, the little boy escaped unscathed but frightened while the man's iced coffee went down the front of Rebekah's tailored cream-colored silk blouse. She gasped as the cold liquid hit her skin and blinked at the guy.

"Daniel!" She'd meant it to come out as a question, but she was still too startled. He just blinked back at her.

The toddler started crying, pulling Rebekah out of her frozen—all pun intended—state. She reached down for the boy. "It's okay, sweetheart."

A young woman hurried over, an apologetic look on her face. "I am _so_, so sorry!"

Daniel calmly set down his now-empty cup and accepted a napkin from the barista. "It's alright," he assured the worried mother.

Rebekah watched with a smile as the young boy went to his mom, crying into her shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm used to it. My niece and nephew spill stuff on me all the time."

Behind the mother, Daniel watched with a crestfallen expression. Rebekah sent him a smile as well as she assured the mother that there was no need for any more worry. Once the mother went her way, she gave Daniel her full attention and a grin. "Why, hello, Daniel. And yes, I'd love a coffee!"

Her tongue-in-cheek response broke the tension. "Yeah. But probably not down the front of your shirt." He handed her a bunch of napkins.

"It wasn't one of my favorites, so I'm okay," Rebekah said as she wiped at the drips still falling to the ground. The barista hurried over with a mop and bucket to clean up the rest of the mess. Rebekah stepped around her as she balefully eyed the ruined blouse. "It's from back in the day when I worked as a receptionist at this high-end law firm. I was trying to make a good impression this morning."

Daniel winced. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Surprising herself and him, Rebekah slapped his arm. "Stop! I'm really okay—if a little cold. But I'll be fine. And I have a change of clothes in the car." She clamped down on the urge to tell him that she was on her way to the gym after she finished with her writer's clinic. She might not have cared what others thought of her anymore, but she enjoyed having a toned, exercised body. She just felt better.

Daniel held up a finger. "Just let me buy you a drink tonight. Turnabout, and all that."

"Deal." Rebekah eyed the menu. "A vanilla chai latte sounds great." She turned toward the door and caught Daniel's grin. What was it about the man that so distracted her? Shaking herself from her thoughts, she grabbed her gym bag from her car and slipped into the women's bathroom to change. Her niece had given her this outfit over Christmas, and Rebekah rarely wore it except at home. Looking at herself in the mirror, she sighed. She didn't really have a choice in the matter now.

Sticking her ruined clothes in the plastic bag she'd brought with her, she left the bathroom and figured she should just enjoy the evening. Marina would beg for details of why the "hottie" purchased her coffee, but Rebekah decided this moment would stay between the two of them. She was unprepared for the way Daniel turned as she appeared or for how he stared as if seeing her for the first time. A flush rose to her cheeks, and she grinned. Yep, she could definitely learn to enjoy having a guy like him around.

~~O~~

Daniel blinked at Rebekah's appearance. When she went into the bathroom, she looked very professional and mature. Stepping out, she still looked mature, but in a different way. She wore a pair of hip-hugger jeans that flared at the bottoms, a baby-doll t-shirt like the ones Vala favored, and a wide brown belt. The t-shirt was dark pink with large purple flowers and a butterfly fluttering up one side. The trendy, youthful outfit made Daniel realize just how attractive she really was.

Dragging his eyes away from the picture she made, he offered her the chai he'd ordered and waited for her to sit down. She took a sip of her drink, her eyes closing as she sighed deeply. Daniel recognized that expression. "Tough day?"

"Long day." She slipped into the chair next to him and wrapped both hands around the cup. "I spent most of it in training sessions and trying to look like I wasn't bored out of my mind."

"Yeah, I know what that's like." And he did. Some of the briefings he had to attend during his career at the SGC were useless wastes of his time. "What do you do?"

"I'm a phone operator, basically." She shrugged. "I work in the bankruptcy department of a bank here in town, handling mortgages. Today wasn't so bad because I wasn't on phones. But most days I get insulted at least once a day and have to deal with irate customers for the rest of them. I usually spend half my day trying to find a diplomatic way to tell these people that their attorney is a putz without failing the call."

Daniel snickered at that. It reminded him of times he'd dealt with the IOA and various politicians. Rather than saying he understood, which would only foster more questions, he chose a safer comment. "That's why I like archeology. No people to deal with."

She blinked at him. "You're an archaeologist?"

"And linguist." Now, he shrugged. "It's a life."

"Probably a very fascinating one, if even half of what happens in archeology thrillers happens in real life."

"Oh, you might be surprised." Daniel said it in such a way that most would interpret it as a comment about how uninteresting his life was when, in reality, she'd hit the proverbial nail on the head.

Others in the writing group started arriving a few moments later, saving him from more conversation. He watched Rebekah interacting with her peers and smiled. She was a nice girl, the kind of woman he'd always imagined would suit him. He was sure she had her quirks, and her love for the written word was legendary, if the chatter he overheard was to be believed. But his past, something that always affected him, wouldn't allow him to see beyond the danger to Rebekah if he did let himself care more than just as a friend.

As Rebekah talked about building a story from one incident-in this case, the one they'd written about in their homework assignment-he thought about whether or not he should spend more time here. He was drawn to the simple life that Rebekah's hobby offered, and he'd found writing that one-shot to be helpful with working out his own frustrations. When the lesson came to an end, he decided he could go along with it for a time. After all, what was the worst that could happen? He'd wind up with a manuscript that helped him sort through Vala's issues and his role in them? He almost laughed out loud when, just a few seconds later, Rebekah assigned more homework: take the short story they'd written the week before and build from it, letting the characters tell their stories and work out their frustration on their own. It would take time and forethought, something that Daniel didn't really have a lot of, but he felt like he could at least give it a try.

With the group breaking up for the evening, Daniel closed his composition book and slowly walked toward where Rebekah and Amy, the mother of the teen boy who came last week, were chatting. The two women said goodbye a few moments later, and Daniel smiled when Rebekah turned. When it came to writing, she was incredible and passionate and confident. The difference surprised him, and he suddenly wanted to get to know her a lot better. "Good class."

"Thanks." She rolled her eyes and collected her things. "Though I never thought I'd be teaching."

"You do a good job." Daniel smiled as Rebekah blushed yet again. He really liked seeing that shade on her. Then, he thought about something else. "Hey, I gotta run, but I wanted to let you know that I'll be out of town next week. I'll get the homework done, but I won't be here."

She nodded. "I know you weren't planning to even attend the first clinic, and the homework is supposed to be more of a prompt than an assignment. So, don't worry about it if you can't."

"I actually enjoyed last week's, so I figured I would give it a try." He held her gaze for a moment and then blurted, "Would you like to have dinner with me when I get home from this trip?"

Rebekah blinked, and Daniel wondered where on Earth or any other planet that question had originated. But it was out there now.

A moment later, she recovered from her surprise. "I'd love to, Daniel." She reached for her pen and quickly wrote down her phone number. "Just give me a call when you get home."

Daniel accepted the page. "I will." He held her gaze for another long moment and then motioned over his shoulder. "I'll see you then."

Rebekah waved and watched him as he left the store. At the door, Daniel turned and smiled at her, his grin lingering as he watched her friend, the one who called her "Beks" the week before, approach with a giddy expression. He hadn't intended to ask her out, but seeing how it affected her made it worth it.

~~O~~

"Girl! Look at you lookin' all hot and sassy!" Marina's ecstatic voice interrupted Rebekah's thoughts. She turned and rolled her eyes at her friend.

"More like tired and sassy."

Marina snorted. "You didn't see the way Mr. Hottie was watching you."

"Of course he was watching me." Rebekah glared. "I was _teaching_. And his name is Daniel, by the way."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Marina propped her hip on the table, a sure sign that she wasn't about to let up for a moment. "So, what was that I saw there at the end?"

"What did you see?"

"Don't give me that." Marina folded her arms. "I watched how Hottie watched you, how he was flirting with you, and how you gave him something. I want details!"

Rebekah rolled her eyes again, something she couldn't stop doing when Marina got into moods like this. "I gave him my number, okay!"

Marina squealed. "Did he ask for it?"

"No, but he invited me to dinner next week after he gets back from his business trip." Rebekah gathered up her purse and notebook. "Now, I'm going to the gym to work out. You're welcome to join me."

Marina rushed through gathering her things and then fell into step with her friend. "You can tell me _all_ about your plans with Mr. Hottie."

Rebekah ground her teeth together. She really didn't want to discuss the non-relationship she had with Daniel Jackson. He was someone she'd met last week, a nice guy who wanted to take her to dinner. Granted, he was older than anyone she'd ever dated in the past, but she hadn't exactly dated anyone in the last five years. And she liked it that way, contrary to what Marina thought. Tonight, all she wanted was to go work out, spend some time in the hot tub at the gym, and go home to collapse into bed.

At the gym, Marina waved to the guy at the desk as the two women passed. Rebekah led the way into the women's locker room. She paid dearly for use of this gym, but she quite liked having access to the hot tub and sauna after a good work out. Tonight, she planned to get on the elliptical machine and listen to music as she "ran." Instead, Marina climbed onto the machine next to her and grinned.

"So, what are you wearing for your non-date?"

Rebekah sighed and made a face at her. "You know, you can be annoying at times."

"But you love me." Marina shrugged. "I just got done watching the guy stare at you as if he'd never seen a woman before. You really need to impress him with this date."

"Did you even hear _anything_ I said tonight?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Um-hmm."

"What's the homework assignment?"

"Take the one-shot we wrote last week and add to it, whether the fall-out of the encounter or the events leading up to it." It was almost a word-for-word quote of what Rebekah had said.

"How do you do that?"

"I'm great at multi-tasking. Now, what are you wearing?"

"My clothes."

"Not a peasant shirt and one of those long broomstick skirts!"

Rebekah clenched her jaw again. "I don't know, okay!"

"Fine." Like any good friend, Marina fell silent as if angry. The two women completed their workout, the irritation on Rebekah's part helping her burn a few more calories. When they finally headed for the locker room, Marina spoke. "Sorry about annoying you."

Rebekah grinned. "I know you mean well. But, Daniel's different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know." Rebekah shrugged. "And I'm not ready for another relationship."

Marina snorted at that, almost as if she knew the exact opposite was true. But she thankfully kept her mouth shut. Rebekah sighed as she finished stretching, took a cool-down shower, and then climbed into the hot tub. Conversation gradually resumed, but Rebekah went home twenty minutes later in a pensive mood. Marina could be a handful, but she wasn't wrong. Rebekah was lonely, and a friendship with a guy who treated her right and liked to spoil her sounded really good. She really didn't want anything else. Not with the expectations that relationships put on her. In her mind, that would ruin what she shared with Daniel, and her budding friendship with him was too valuable.

She just wished she could convince that female part of her—the part that found Daniel beyond attractive and almost irresistible—that she was right.

~TBC


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **As always, thanks go out to ladygris for doing the Beta of this chapter.

Gracias,

~Sandy

**Illusions**

**Chapter Three**

**Las Vegas**

**A Few Nights Before **

**Rodney and Jennifer's Wedding**

Watching Rodney with Jennifer, John had to admit that he'd changed since the two of them had gotten together. Rodney was calmer, more assured in social situations than before. When he'd start off on one of his rants or got into a disagreement with another scientist, a storm that threatened to get out of control, all Jennifer had to do was touch him on the arm and the he would become a little more…serene.

Well, most of the time John liked the change. Others, like when it was another of the life or death situations they often found themselves in, it could be a hindrance. But so far, so good.

At the moment, John was drinking wine and pretending not to notice that they were whispering sweet nothings to each other. Something Rodney said made Jennifer blush and slap him on the arm.

_Time to intervene before it gets even more disgusting._

"So, Doc, Rodney, what's the plan?"

The physicist shot him a glare, minor compared to his usual one. "The same as it was when we left…the island. A couple of days of sightseeing, gambling and shows, the bachelor and bachelorette parties the night before, wedding and reception at the Bellagio the day of then Jennifer and I are off to Hawaii for two weeks of sun, sand and surf without any distractions. Jeannie, Kaleb and Madison will get here the night before." Jennifer elbowed him and nodded. "Oh, uh, thanks for getting us that cottage on the beach with a fiberoptic hook-up."

"No problem, Rodney. My family owns the hotel. It's all on the house, by the way."

Jennifer and Rodney stared at John with their eyes wide in surprise speaking at the same time, "_Really?_"

"Yeah. Just consider it a wedding present."

"Thanks, John. We will. Right, Rodney?" Again Jennifer poked him with her elbow.

Rodney held up a dark green bottle. "Yeah. Thanks. More wine?"

Ronon held out his glass, Rodney filled it then the Satedan downed the contents in one long drink.

~~O~~

Holding tight to Amelia's hand, Chuck led the way through the crush of people standing at the slot machines, around the Blackjack tables and past the Roulette wheels.

Chuck had one older brother and three older sisters. Amelia was the oldest of six girls. And after spending two weeks trying to plan their wedding with the help of those family members, they'd decided to elope to prevent the constant interference and inevitable arguments.

Las Vegas would be the jumping off point for the biggest gamble of their lives. After they left the chapel, they would drive over to the restaurant where they had reservations then back to the hotel to celebrate their first night as a married couple.

Amelia pulled Chuck back out of the way of a newlywed couple just leaving the chapel. The man and woman looked very happy as they were pelted by handfuls of birdseed and rose petals. Chuck swung his fiancée into his arms and gave her a hug.

He was about to kiss her when something caught his eyes. Instead of the kiss, he drew her into a tighter hug his eyebrows drawn together as he scanned the crowed ebbing and flowing through the casino, a river of people coming and going. But he was looking for someone specific. Someone who, in spite of his intellect and the fact that he'd helped save countless lives while in Pegasus, was disliked by everyone. Even Chuck, who got along with most people, had never found anything to like about this man. The Gate Tech had even heard that Dr. Keller had slapped him so hard she'd broken his glasses. Though he'd nodded and notated the incident in the logs, inside he'd been dancing with glee that the obnoxious pig had gotten at least a small taste of what he deserved.

A sudden jerk broke his concentration. He looked down at Amelia gazing up at him with concern. He had been so immersed in his perusal of the throng that he hadn't heard her calling him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled and gave her a long kiss. "Ready to do this?"

Amelia's grin told him what he wanted to know. "Definitely."

"Good, 'cause we're up in a few minutes." Drawing her into a hug again, Chuck put his mouth close to her ear. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

The room had only five sets of pews on each side and was, for Las Vegas, conservatively decorated all in white. The preacher, thankfully, wasn't an Elvis impersonator. And though Chuck was happier now than any other time in his life, he couldn't help thinking about what he'd seen just before they entered the chapel.

He knew Dr. McKay and his friends were in town for the same reason he and Amelia. And though he knew she'd be upset, Chuck also knew he couldn't let what he'd seen go on. If anyone could stop it, Rodney, John and Woolsey could.

"Banks and Campbell. Front and center!"

Hurrying to the end of the aisle, they saw a man standing in front of a podium. His back was straight, his imposing glower marking him, in the minds of the Sergeants, as former military. He nodded to the white-haired woman sitting at the organ. She played the opening notes of the Wedding March nodding to Chuck and Amelia. Amelia tucked her hand around Chuck's elbow and they walked to the front of the chapel.

"We are gathered here today to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony…"

~~O~~

Dessert had just been served when one of the hotel's staff came to the table. "Dr. McKay, someone's here to see you. Says it'll only take a few moments."

Rodney followed the young man around the corner to see Chuck and Amelia standing together. They were oddly dressed, Chuck in a suit with a rosebud in the lapel and Amelia in an off-white dress with white roses in her hair. "What is so important you had to take me away from…"

"Sorry, Dr. McKay, but we saw something this evening I thought you should be aware of." Chuck gave a quick accounting of what he'd witnessed and later shared with Amelia. When the Gate Tech said a familiar name, Rodney's interest was captured.

Turning away, Rodney left the couple standing in the hall and returned to the table. Without a word, he picked up his fork and began eating is double-caramel turtle cake. Just as he shoveled the last bite into his mouth, he noticed that his companions were watching him. "What?"

"What's going on?" John didn't like being left out of the loop.

"Dessert."

"No, I mean where did you _go?_"

"Out in the hall."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?" Rodney wiped his mouth with the napkin and pushed back from the table. "Let's just go see the show."

"Fine. But this isn't over."

Taking Jennifer's hand, Rodney muttered under his breath, "It never _is_ with you."

"What?"

Huffing, Rodney said aloud, "I think I have _something_ in my _shoe_." And before anyone could protest, he claimed the table closest to the entrance for their group.

~~O~~

Amelia watched Rodney return to the restaurant then turned to Chuck. "What d'you think he'll do?"

"Don't know." Taking her hand, he headed for the exit. "How about we just have supper and forget about everything but us, wife?"

"Mmm." At the door, Amelia reached up to kiss him. "I like that idea…husband."

~~O~~

Dinner was long over and the friends had settled in to watch the show. Rodney sat where he could see the gambling area to his left and the stage to his right. John noticed that Rodney's attention was more on the slot machines and Blackjack tables than on the show. And considering the sparse amount of clothing the women were wearing, it was more than worthy of notice.

The women stripped off the last of their clothing leaving them all bare except for their rhinestone bikinis and Rodney didn't even blink. John knew it was time to have a few words with the physicist.

Following Rodney's gaze, John saw someone who looked familiar. The man got up, one hand tossing a handful of tokens as he slowly walked down one row and up the next, stopping in front of another machine. To most people, his choice seemed random. To someone with an MBA in mathematics, it wasn't.

But before John could pull Rodney aside for a private talk, Rodney left his seat and disappeared into the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder and the expression on his face could only be called furious. Rodney pushed his way through a cluster of elderly women obviously on a day trip and down the aisle where his target was now playing at a new machine.

Amanda touched John on the arm and he leaned close to hear what she was saying over the loud music. She'd just gotten to her feet when loud voices drew the attention of everyone at the table as well as many of the other patrons. Most gave the men a cursory glance then went back to what they were doing. Others glared, upset that their "quiet evening" of gambling and drinking had been disturbed.

Now that he could hear the other man's voice, John recognized Kavanagh through the disguise. The former member of the Atlantis expedition stalked toward the exit with Rodney hot on his heels. John followed with Jennifer, Amanda, Ronon, Dusty, Teyla and Evan behind him.

"You-you are _insufferable!_"

Outside the front door, Kavanagh came to a stop facing the traffic and gaudy lights of The Strip. "So you keep _telling_ me. Doesn't change a thing." He finally faced his tormentor. "I am _still_ smarter than you on _all_ levels."

Rodney's laughter was mocking. "There is _so_ much _wrong_ with that statement that I cannot even _begin_ to…"

"Which has been your problem all along. You think you're smarter than anyone."

Scoffing, Rodney spread his arms wide. "I'm Rodney McKay! Of _course_ I'm smarter than…"

"Again, you are _wrong_." Kavanagh stood toe to toe with Rodney, poking him in the chest. "I promise you that _I_ will have a Nobel Prize long before you're ever even nominated! And on that day, I'll be laughing all the way to the bank."

"_You?_" Again that contemptuous tone. "_You_ haven't had _one_ original idea in all the time I've known you!"

"And _you_ have? Not so much, McKay."

"As a matter of fact…"

"Every idea you've come up with came within seconds of causing a disaster of your own making." Rodney scoffed…loudly. "I'm not the one who was so arrogant that I ignored the advice of other experts in the field and had a catastrophic failure of containment when working with a new power source!"

Rodney's face reddened in embarrassment. "That was a fluke and you _know_ it. The entire project was flawed from the beginning."

"Oh, so the…" Kavanagh made an elaborate show of air quotes, "…great Dr. Rodney McKay admits to making a mistake." He turned in a circle, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hear that, Las Vegas! Rodney McKay made a _mistake!_"

"Yeah? Well what about the time Ronon scared you and you fainted?"

Some of Kavanagh's bluster faded though his anger was a strong as ever. Pointing at Ronon standing with the Atlanteans, he snorted in derision. "That Neanderthal _didn't_ scare me. I hadn't eaten that day and passed out due to low blood sugar."

"And was that also the reason you fainted at Midway when the Wraith threatened to feed on you?"

"I didn't faint. It…"

A burst of real laughter came from Rodney. "Tell it to someone who thinks you have even the smallest _shred_ of personality and intelligence." As Kavanagh had before him, he got up in the other man's face, poking him in the chest. "You need to _stop_ what you're doing. Now!"

"Or _what?_"

Rodney stopped poking, dropping his arms to his sides and taking a step back. John figured it was because Rodney didn't think Kavanagh capable of preforming acts of violence on others, but John knew different. People like Kavanagh were more treacherous than someone like Ronon. The Satedan, just by standing up, broadcast danger. Kavanagh hid his behind a façade of arrogance and self-importance.

"Or I will stop you myself."

Kavanagh laughed louder and longer than before. Tears trickled from his eyes to be brushed away with his fingers. "That's _funny_. To do that, you'd have to grow a _new_ pair because you lost 'em the day you and Keller…"

A gasp went through the onlookers gathered around watching the spectacle when Rodney punched Kavanagh in the jaw. Kavanagh lay on the sidewalk staring up at Rodney as if he'd been attacked out of the blue by a stranger instead of a former superior.

Anger thrummed in the air as Rodney clenched his hands into fists waiting to see if Kavanagh would retaliate. His voice dropped into a menacing register when he finally spoke again. "I don't care _what_ you say about me, but if you say anything like that about Jennifer _ever again_ I will _murder_ you!"

John figured it was way past time to intercede. He wrapped a hand around Rodney's left arm while Ronon did the same on the right and the two men dragged him away from Kavanagh still on the ground holding a finger to his split lip.

Back inside the casino, John pushed Rodney into a corner, he and Ronon trapping the physicist so he couldn't leave. "What is _wrong_ with you, McKay? You just threatened to _kill_ Kavanagh in front of _witnesses_."

For the first time, Rodney thought about his conversation with Kavanagh, an expression of fear coming over his features. "Bu-but I meant professionally, not… You really think…"

"Let's just get out of here before the cops come."

The rest of their group joined them, Jennifer taking Rodney's hand. She smiled tensely at him. "I'm tired, honey. Let's go back to the hotel."

"Yeah."

John hailed a pair of cabs. He and his friends piled in and were whisked away, none of them seeing a pair of eyes watching with more than a little interest. He pulled a cell phone from an inside pocket, spoke briefly, thumbed the end key and left the casino by a side door.

**The Next Day**

The email arrived with the subject "You're Invited…" but without a sender's name or email address. When Rodney tried to track it to the sending computer's IP address he found that it had been sent around the planet several hundred times originating with an anonymous server in Pinole, California. Whoever it was, this person didn't want him to uncover his or her identity.

His curiosity unappeased, he opened the email. It was an invitation for him to attend a banquet where someone he knew was getting the Eddington Medal in physical cosmology and astroparticle physics. The only certainty in his mind told him that it would _not_ be Malcolm Tunney, who'd been ostracized by the physics community after the space/time matter bridge debacle, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, who was a moron, or Peter Kavanagh who was lacking in _any_ redeeming qualities personally, professionally or morally as evidenced by his current activities.

He let his excitement build at the thought that it might even be Jeannie. His sister had returned to university when Madison started school, breezing through all of her courses. Of course, it helped that she'd been involved in work that was light years ahead of anything being taught outside the SCG.

Glancing at his watch, he guessed that he'd have time to attend the banquet and still make it back to the hotel before the women returned from the day spa. Evan, Ronon and John had gone off on some quest they hadn't been inclined to give him the details about so he'd been on his own all day and would be until close to supper.

Checking his look one more time, Rodney left the room, pocketed the keycard and, just for a change, took the rear staircase down to the first floor. After Tunney, he was prepared to stand up and denounce the person receiving the award as a fraud and a liar, assuming that this person had somehow stolen his work. He couldn't help being cynical and a skeptic after everything that had happened to him over the years.

_Maybe__ I'm__ getting the _award. Too bad Jennifer's not here.

Grinning smugly, he thought that maybe today he'd get a little revenge back on those who'd wronged him.

~~O~~

Kavanagh opened the door at the end of the hall, entering the stuffy and dusty stairwell. Sure, he was on the twelfth floor, but he preferred the stairs to the elevator. Besides, it was good exercise. Something McKay had yet to learn. The man ate like a pig and seldom exercised. It was Kavanagh's opinion that a flabby body created a flabby mind and McKay was a perfect example.

He took the steps quickly only pausing as he hit the landings, the echo sounding loud to his ears. Somewhere around the seventh floor he stopped to retie his shoes and check that his clothes were wrinkled enough to indicate that he'd only just arrived at the hotel after traveling for almost five hours.

His hair had been changed as well. Instead of slicked back, he'd had the sides shortened and spiked the front with gel. His contacts were replaced with another pair in a different color chosen at random from the sets he carried with him.

Every point of his plan had been plotted out and as many variables accounted for as possible. As a scientist, he knew that it wasn't feasible to account for all random events, especially in a place like Las Vegas.

A sound brought Kavanagh to his feet. It wasn't much, but noticeable in the enclosed environment of the stairwell. The touch of a hand on a railing. The squeak of a shoe. Whatever it was, he ignored it and continued down, taking the last two steps in one jump, stumbling backward when he was elbowed in the face.

~~O~~

Rodney was pissed…again. He'd walked _six blocks_ in his good shoes and dark blue suit to an empty and locked banquet hall. And now there were cops all over the lobby of the hotel and casino. He'd never seen it so empty and quiet. Yellow tape tied to the handles of slot machines and the brass stands for the red velvet ropes announced that there was a police investigation going on…as if the plethora of cops and black and whites blocking the entrance and all but one of the exits hadn't already given it away. The doors to the stairs and the elevators were blocked leaving him stranded on the first floor.

He'd missed lunch and didn't really want to watch Las Vegas' finest work so he went into the bar and found a table as far from the other diners as he could. The server took his order and walked away taking a circuitous route that led past the crime scene where she stopped to ogle one of the plainclothes detectives. The man ignored her and kept on working.

Rodney rested his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead with the other the way he did when a headache was coming on. Jennifer, Teyla, Dusty and Amanda arrived before his food and drink.

Jennifer dropped a kiss on his lips. "What's going on, Rodney?"

"They won't let me go upstairs and I'm getting a headache again. Do you have my allergy meds with you?"

Reaching into her purse, Jennifer took out a small bottle and pressed it into his hand. "Why are they here?"

He swallowed two of the pills with water before answering. "Don't know. Someone probably got themselves killed or committed suicide. We should have done this in Vancouver or Wisconsin."

The server set a glass of tea in front of Rodney, a wedge of lemon perched on the rim. Amanda grabbed the woman's arm forcing her attention back to her customers. "Excuse me. He's allergic to citrus."

"Yeah. So?"

Teyla picked the glass up and handed it to the server. "Take this back and bring him another. This time _without_ lemon."

"And who are you? His _mother?_"

Amanda's glare matched Teyla's. "No. I'm his _doctor_ and his friend. Now bring him a new drink in a _clean_ glass."

"Fine." The woman snatched the glass from Teyla's hand spilling it all over the floor. She rolled her eyes and scowled. "Chuy! Clean-up on six!"

A few minutes later, a man and woman with dour expressions wearing vests with "POLICE" printed across the front and back in bright yellow letters came to the table. The woman did the talking, while the man stood two steps to the left and one step back. "Excuse me, sir." She flashed her badge as did the man. "Detective Stevens, Detective Maguire. Could we have a few minutes of your time?" Her tone indicated he didn't have a choice.

Confused, Rodney looked at the equally confused faces of the women. "What can we do for you?"

Stevens shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Do any of you know a man by the name of Dr. Peter Kavanagh?"

The Atlanteans shared a group eye roll, Jennifer speaking for them. "We _all_ know him. Why?"

"When was the last time any of you saw him?"

"Why?" Dusty asked the question they were all thinking.

Detective Maguire shifted his feet and crossed his arms. "He was murdered today."

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 4

Daniel walked through the Stargate and into the SGC with a purpose to his step that normally wasn't there. He was exhausted, ready to shower, and wanted to simply leave the base. Instead, he waited behind Mitchell as the man reported in to General Landry. Next to Daniel, Vala shifted in place and made as big a scene as possible. Daniel resisted the urge to clap a hand over her mouth and drag her from the gateroom, but he refrained as Landry sent them to clean up before they even had their post-mission physicals.

The mission was an abysmal failure. Not that Daniel hadn't been able to explore some pretty unique ruins. The writing there was similar to Ancient but with a flair, and he had quickly learned that some of the words were different. That led him to believe the builders of this particular place were an offshoot of the Ancients he knew. Thankfully, there was no sign of the Ori here, and he'd endured three days of Vala whining about being bored and Mitchell pushing him to finish his work.

Of course, he couldn't blame them for what had happened. They arrived on the planet in the middle of monsoon season. The entire time they'd been there, they'd been cold, wet, and unable to do much more than warm up an MRE before the rains made keeping a fire going impossible. Normally, they would have called an end to the mission, but Vala picked that moment to point out that the DHD was partially underwater. They tried to get it working, but the water inside the DHD caused some issues that couldn't be resolved until things dried out a bit. That left Daniel trying to translate the writing while Teal'c and Cam worked to keep Vala occupied and focused on fixing the DHD. Needless to say, all of them were rather happy to be home.

Stepping out of a hot shower, Daniel rubbed a towel over his hair as he headed for his locker. He dressed quickly, his black t-shirt still sticking to the residual dampness on his shoulders. Mitchell was there, as well, chattering away about how great the hot shower had felt. Daniel agreed. He opened his locker and reached for his watch, his eyes falling on the cell phone on the top shelf. He thought about the number he'd programmed into the phone book there and sighed.

Rebekah likely expected him to call sometime soon. Daniel's hand hovered over the phone, debating his next move. He could call her now, or give her a call later. Uncertain of which he should do, he was saved from making his decision by Mitchell commenting about the upcoming briefing. Daniel just hoped it wasn't too late to make that call when they finished.

All through the briefing, Daniel split his attention between telling General Landry what had happened and debating his options for dinner with Rebekah. When he'd asked her out, he had done so on impulse. She was an interesting lady, one with whom he could see himself spending hours just talking and laughing. She hadn't pressured him about anything and, while he'd definitely noticed just how attractive she really was, he didn't expect much from her. They were friends, nothing more. And no matter how pretty he thought her, they would become nothing more. The SGC was his life, and Rebekah had no knowledge the Stargate even existed. Her relatively normal lifestyle appealed to Daniel on a level that he hadn't realized was there. If it wasn't for the Stargate Program, he could see himself dating her, falling in love with her, and, maybe, building a life.

Blinking at the briefing room table, Daniel tried to bring his thoughts back to the present. He and Rebekah had nothing between them to indicate that his thoughts should even go _that_ far. Yes, she was attractive. Yes, he loved talking with her about her job and her writing. Yes, she had captured his attention. But he had to think about the bigger picture. And that picture included little complications like the Stargate, aliens, and Vala.

The briefing ended, and Daniel left the room alone. Most everyone was exhausted, and his silence went unnoticed. A quick glance at his watch told him it was only seven in the evening, still early enough to call Rebekah and ask her to dinner.

Footsteps halted his line of thinking, however, as Vala skipped to his side. "So," she began, "what are we doing over the weekend?"

"We?" Daniel asked, hating how petty he sounded.

She gave him a perturbed expression. "Well, Muscles is going back to spend some time with the Jaffa, and Mitchell said he's got a ton of paperwork to catch up on. That leaves you."

Daniel shook his head. Vala was an asset to the team, but she was also a royal pain in his. . . . "_We_ are not doing anything this weekend."

"Oh, come on, Daniel." Vala's voice turned a slight bit plaintive. "What else are we gonna do?"

He started ticking off options on his fingers as he spoke. "Paperwork, mission reports, translations, catalog recent archeological finds, clean house, catch up on things like bills and messages at home. . . ." He would have gone on listing all the options if Vala hadn't stopped him.

"I get it." She looked him in the eye. "You _can_ tell me you don't want to spend time with me. I'll understand."

"You will?"

"Of course." She tossed her dark hair. "Daniel, I know things haven't exactly been great between us lately."

"Yeah, especially not after what you did a few weeks ago."

"How do you expect me to act? I was _drunk_! I _don't remember_ a thing!"

"You know what? I'm tired, you're tired. Maybe we should drop it."

"Maybe we should." She turned and stomped off in the opposite direction.

Daniel watched her leave, the tension in his shoulders returning. As much as Vala had contributed to SG-1, he still missed Sam. He understood that her career and life had taken her away from SG-1, and he was happy for her. Proud of her, even. After all, she was the first female commander of one of Earth's space ships, one named after a very close friend who died all too soon in Daniel's opinion. But it didn't stop him from wanting to have his best friends around. Things hadn't been the same after both Jack and Sam left, and Daniel now wondered if it was his time to also leave SG-1.

Back in the locker room, he grabbed his cell phone and headed for the surface as it powered up. He had a mission report to write and other work waiting for him, but it could wait one more night. He refused to stay in this mountain a moment longer. Once seated behind the wheel of his Jeep Cherokee, he dialed a number and started the vehicle as he waited for Rebekah to answer.

~~O~~

Enemy forces had just infiltrated a supposedly secure base when a cell phone rang. Rebekah swiped it up from where it lay on the couch next to her, hitting the "Answer" button and tucking it under her chin so she could continue typing. "Hello?"

"_Hi, it's Daniel."_

She blinked at the computer screen, her fingers stilling in their rush to get the story down. There wasn't a character named Daniel in her story. All at once, reality rushed back in, and she felt her cheeks heat. "Hey!"

"_I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"_

"No, not at all." She quickly saved the chapter she'd been writing and set her laptop on the coffee table. Suppressing a groan as she stood, she grinned. "I was off in another galaxy, fighting invaders who shouldn't have known about the top secret research going on in the base."

"_So I did interrupt something crucial to the fate of the galaxy."_ His tongue-in-cheek response made her grin widen.

"Well, sort of." All at once, the sound of his voice washed over her. He seemed to be smiling, but there was something more. "Are you okay?"

"_Yeah. It was just a long trip. I'm barely getting home."_ As if on cue, keys jingled in the background, and she heard the faint sound of a door closing.

Daniel had called her before he even got home? Rebekah absorbed the impact that had on her and then fumbled for a response. "Good trip?"

"_Not really."_ He sighed. _"I called to see if you still wanted to have dinner with me tomorrow evening."_

"I'd love to."

"_Good."_ He rattled off a restaurant that was way out of Rebekah's price range. _"Should I pick you up or meet you there?"_

She understood the significance of the question, and she appreciated that Daniel had asked it. If he picked her up, they started straying toward something a lot more personal. If she met him, they could maybe keep things in the realm of friendship. Not that having a guy like Daniel Jackson as her boyfriend would be a bad thing, but she didn't want to go on an actual date with him until she got to know him better. But, as he was paying for dinner, she couldn't quibble about the location. "I'll meet you there. Seven?"

"_Sounds great."_

"Get some rest, Daniel." Rebekah couldn't have stopped the comment if she'd wanted to. He sounded beyond exhausted.

"_I will."_ When he spoke again, his smile could be heard. _"I'll see you tomorrow."_

Rebekah hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. She had a date with the most attractive man she'd known in a long time, and she wondered if she even knew how to get through it. Daniel wasn't like a lot of guys she'd known in the past. Yes, he admired her from afar, but he also knew how to carry on an intelligent conversation.

Returning to the couch, Rebekah stared at the computer screen. What Marina would say if she knew! Thankfully, she had no plans to tell her friend about this dinner with Daniel until _after_ the dinner was over. Then, she'd have a better idea of whether or not he was looking for something romantic or just friendly. While most of Rebekah wanted that to be friendly, a tiny part of her—a portion of her heart that had been closed off for a lot of years—suddenly started hoping for a lot more.

~~O~~

Daniel noticed Rebekah's arrival at the restaurant just as he handed his keys to the valet. He grinned and watched as she pulled up in a mid-eighties model Ford Mustang. He'd seen cars like that on the road, but this one looked perfectly maintained except for the inevitable water spots from a recent rain. Rebekah set the parking brake and, after giving her keys to the valet, headed for Daniel.

He turned his grin to her. "Nice car."

"Thanks." She dimpled, and it lit up her face. Tonight, she wore a white blouse with black dress slacks, low-heeled pumps completing the outfit. A bright blue scarf with a faint pink pattern on it covered her shoulders, and her hair had been pulled into a sleek but stylish bun.

Daniel reached for the door and opened it just as the sound of a car stalling and tires squealing reached their ears. Rebekah whirled, and she glared as the valet restarted her car after popping the clutch. She flushed and shrugged. "I've had that car since high school. I'm a little overprotective."

Daniel accepted that and, after giving his name to the maitre d', walked quietly beside Rebekah. She seemed perfectly at ease in his company, but he saw how she watched others in the room for her cues. Not that she made it obvious. Rather than drawing her attention to it, he slid into his chair and waited while their waiter took their drink orders. Then, she looked at him and simply smiled.

Searching for something to say, Daniel grabbed at the first subject that came to mind. "Did the top secret research fall into enemy hands?"

She laughed. "No." She leaned her elbows on the table. "They succeeded in killing the last enemy combatant at the last possible moment. Unfortunately, I was up late last night finishing the actual story, so I was a wreck at work today."

"Oh, you finished?"

"Yep."

"How long have you been writing?"

"Um. . . ." Her eyes moved to the ceiling as she added the years. "Since fifth grade. But, for most of those years, I did more stop-and-start writing than actually finishing stories. These days, I actually finish them."

The conversation continued from there, and the ease that had been between them in the coffee shop returned. Daniel learned that Rebekah had received a promotion at work and would no longer be taking calls. Instead, she'd be doing Quality Assurance, listening in on others' conversations. He laughed when she called herself a professional eavesdropper.

Several hours later, they finished their coffee and dessert and reluctantly walked out of the restaurant. The valets brought their vehicles, and Daniel stood to the side while Rebekah climbed into her car. She gave him a long look over the roof of her car, thanking him for dinner and saying they needed to do this again. He agreed and waved as she pulled away.

With his hands in his pockets, Daniel watched her taillights and considered his next move. He liked Rebekah. She was one of those people he felt like he'd known all his life even though they'd met just over two weeks ago. She was smart and, while she asked questions about his work, never really strayed into the inappropriate. Unfortunately for Daniel, "inappropriate" included what he was actively doing right now. Rebekah had asked but promptly changed the subject when he said he did a lot of classified work for the military.

Suddenly, Daniel's mind was jerked back into the present when a car pulled out behind Rebekah and followed her from the parking lot. He frowned. He'd noticed that car idling by the road, the driver's face lit by a cell phone. At first, he assumed that it was a driver just checking his messages before driving away. But it was obvious that the man had been waiting. Unfortunately, due to the darkness of the night and the distance, Daniel hadn't got a good enough look to describe the man.

Concerned, he reached for his keys. If he told Rebekah she might have been followed, he could spook her. He had nothing more than suspicions, and he knew how inaccurate those could be. Still, he'd learned never to underestimate that danger sense. As he drove home, he resolved to pay more attention to people in the coffee shop the next time he was at the writer's group. If he noticed the same man lingering more than once, he'd bring it up.

Uneasy, Daniel spent the remainder of the night trying to rest and wishing such a successful first date hadn't been ruined by the suspicions his work with the Stargate Program had fostered.

~~O~~

A little over a week later, Daniel sat in his office and wrote furiously in one of his journals. He'd learned a lot about writing fiction in the last week, namely that one could not stop a story if it wanted to be written. When he'd first met Rebekah, he'd almost scoffed at her comment that stories had a life of their own. Now, he knew better.

He'd also learned a lot about his characters. Valerie lived on a quaint tree-lined street barely wide enough for a single vehicle thanks to the cars lining either side. Families lived there, the sound of children's laughter echoing in the mid-summer air. It was idyllic and utterly deceptive. There was evil in that neighborhood, and Daniel hadn't figured out what it was just yet.

Part of him was a bit disconcerted, however. He was, in essence, putting everything he both loved and hated about Vala into Valerie. It gave him a disturbing insight into what might go on in her mind whenever she pulled one of her stunts.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Vala appeared in the doorway. "Are you coming?"

Daniel looked up and blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Had he missed a briefing? "Coming for what?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's lunch time, silly. You promised you would join Mitchell, Teal'c, and myself in the mess hall."

"Oh, right." Daniel blinked at the page. He had promised, especially since Teal'c was finally returning from Chulak. The big guy loved tater tots, and the mess hall had fixed plenty of them that day on Vala's request. "I'll. . .uh. . .be there in a few minutes."

"What are you doing?" Vala moved across the room.

Daniel quickly slammed the journal closed. "Nothing."

"I just want to know."

"No."

"Please?" She gave him a wide, toothy grin.

Daniel closed his eyes for just a moment and then snapped them open to stare at her. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Actually, darling, I do. I'm leaving right after lunch for the Land of Light."

Suddenly, Daniel wanted to kick himself. After the removal of Ba'al, the Goa'uld's host had been granted sanctuary with the Tok'ra until he decided what to do with his life. Vala had been a big help to the man, easing him through the transition from being controlled to controlling his own life. At first, she'd even lived with the Tok'ra as she soothed nightmares of the memory of Ba'al's atrocities. Daniel suspected part of that was penance for her own actions as Qetesh, but he said anything to Vala. "Right." He set aside his pen. "How long are you going to be gone this time?"

"I don't know." Vala waited while he pulled on his SGC outer shirt and left the office with him. "Keret is doing well, but he doesn't like me gone for very long."

Daniel gave her a sharp glance. She had a soft smile on her face, one he had not seen in months. "You like him."

She met his eyes. "Yes, Daniel, I do."

Daniel stopped walking, pulling Vala out of the center of the hallway. "A bit of advice, Vala. Don't play games with him. If you like him and, one day, even love him, be true to that. After all he's been through. . . ."

She put a hand on his arm to stop him from rambling on. "I learned my lesson, Daniel. You taught me well."

Daniel blinked at that. "_I_ taught you well?"

Vala shrugged, her voice taking on that same regretful tone she always used when she finally dropped all her games and schemes to be real. "Why do you think I stayed at the SGC, Daniel? It wasn't for the adventure and _stunning_ views."

For a moment, Daniel tried to figure out what to say. His relationship with Vala had always been strained by her actions the first two times they'd met. In the last few years, he'd seen an improvement in her, and he had even come to trust her. But that was a far cry from what she'd just told him. "Vala, I. . . ."

"There's no need to say anything." She met his eyes sadly. "As I said, I learned my lesson. In spite of what you may think of me, I don't make the same mistake twice."

"What I may think?"

"Oh, don't get started, darling." Suddenly, she was back to her typical self. "Besides, we're late for lunch."

Daniel trailed behind her as he absorbed the latest revelation. One of the reasons he'd never followed through on the understandable physical attraction he felt for Vala was her games. She used her sensuality to get what she wanted. When that failed, she often resorted to lies and trickery. Much of that had changed during her time at the SGC, but Daniel wasn't looking for a woman who played games. He wasn't looking for a woman at all. If he did have the good fortune to fall in love ever again, he wanted one who respected him enough to be real at all times, trusted him, and one that he could fully trust in return. While he trusted Vala with his life, he didn't exactly trust her with his heart.

The pair finally arrived in the commissary, and Daniel spent the time thinking about what she'd just told him. Without her even knowing it, she had given him an idea for his story. He and Vala would never have the happy ending that she wanted, but that didn't mean Derick and Valerie couldn't. With a thoughtful expression, Daniel escorted Vala to the gate room that afternoon and saw her off, knowing that, though he'd see her again since she was still a member of SG-1, she had said goodbye to him that day.

~~O~~

Rebekah sat in Sacred Grounds on Thursday evening, her stomach flipping as she idly skimmed through her notes for the evening. She and Daniel had shared dinner twice, and she knew she wanted to spend a lot more time with him. Marina had found out after the first date, and Rebekah had been hard-pressed to keep the other woman from teasing her about it in front of the writing group. This evening, Daniel had asked to share dinner with her before the clinic, and Rebekah had been unable to say no. She loved the time she spent with him, and he always made her laugh.

Right on time, he stepped through the door looking incredible in a weathered black leather jacket and denim jeans. He wore a gray shirt underneath the jacket, and the smile that lit his face made his entire appearance irresistible. Rebekah worked to keep the flush from her face as he headed for her table and marginally succeeded.

"Hey." He set two thick leather-bound journals next to her. "Ordered yet?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I worked through lunch to get off on time."

He nodded. "Done that before." Jabbing a thumb toward the counter, he grinned. "Be right back."

As he ordered his meal, Rebekah watched him and thought about the last ten days. Daniel had called three days after their first dinner, taking her out that evening after work and entertaining her the entire time. He'd looked tired and admitted that he'd been on yet another business trip. But they'd enjoyed their evening, both of them going their separate ways.

_Who are you kidding, Rebekah?_ Her mind asked. _You more than like him._

She sighed. Her conscience was right. She didn't just like Daniel. She was incredibly attracted to him. But she could not allow herself to even hope for anything romantic from him. He'd been the perfect gentleman in the time they'd known one another, never once indicating that he wanted this to go beyond the realm of friendship. There was something in Daniel's eyes when they spoke of their respective pasts, a grief beyond anything Rebekah had known, and she refused to press him about it. Friends revealed things to one another when they were ready, not before. And, if she'd learned anything in her years as a writer, it was to wait for the other person to open up and share their secrets.

Daniel returned to the table with a glass of iced tea. "So, how are you?"

"Good."

"Writing again?"

"Not yet." Rebekah wasn't able to keep the growl from her voice. She'd finished her last story ten days ago and had decided to challenge herself to write something totally original. Daniel had admitted that he'd read her writing online and thought the stories incredible. With his encouragement, she'd finally admitted to being a bit afraid of writing a totally original piece of work. Problem was, she had a vague idea but nothing concrete. "I just don't know where to start."

"That's why I brought this." Daniel reached for the two journal's he'd brought, handing her the one with a beautiful burgundy cover. "This is for you."

Rebekah ran her fingers over the soft covering and opened it to reveal blank, lined pages. It had a flap that closed around the pages, tying in the front with a simple string. The pages were tan and weathered at the edges, a deliberate attempt to make it look old. Rebekah had looked at these journals in the past and knew that they cost a lot more than a simple notebook. That Daniel had bought one for her meant a lot, and she smiled at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He shrugged. "I find writing everything down in a journal helps me think. I know you're used to working on the computer, but this might help with brainstorming."

"It might." Rebekah set it aside as the waitress delivered her meal. "How are you doing with your writing?"

"Oh, it's been. . .interesting." He gave her a wry grin. "I have this coworker who is a good person but sometimes irritating. She really helped with Valerie's point of view."

"Valerie?"

"Uh, yeah. She's one of the main characters in the story."

The two spent the next hour talking about Daniel's story, and Rebekah grinned as she listened to his ideas. His eyes lit up, and he had such an enthusiasm about him that she hadn't seen in a man his age. She suspected that Daniel was one of those rare people who would show an intense interest in life until the day he died, but seeing it in action really surprised her. By the time the rest of the writer's group arrived, Daniel's enthusiasm had worn off. She started her clinic by telling the group that she'd decided to take a risk with her writing. They seemed pleased with that, but it was Daniel's approving smile from the back of the table that made it all worthwhile.

~~O~~

General Jack O'Neill stood outside the coffee shop and stared at Daniel's Jeep. As soon as Mitchell told him that Daniel had gone for coffee and some time away from base, he'd known exactly where to find the archeologist. Daniel loved the coffee here, and Jack had often teased him about being so picky.

Wishing he didn't have to interrupt his friend's rare evening to himself, Jack pushed the door open. He'd chosen to wear civvies so he didn't attract attention to himself. As soon as he entered the coffee shop, he was glad he had.

Daniel sat at a table with a pretty young woman, the two of them with journals spread out and the remains of their dinner pushed to the side. The woman had her long hair tucked behind one ear as she wrote something in her journal while Daniel tried to correct whatever she was writing. The two of them got into a quiet "argument" which resulted in laughter and a nice blue pen mark across the back of Daniel's hand.

_Mitchell never said anything about Daniel dating anyone._ Jack just watched, unnoticed, as the pair went on with whatever they were doing. He'd known Daniel long enough to see when the archeologist was attracted to a woman. And, based on how she kept smiling at him, the woman he was with shared the same feelings. Jack studied her, seeing her true age in her expression even if her appearance was that of a much younger woman. Her brown hair fell down her back, and the long skirt she wore reminded him vaguely of their accidental trip back to 1969. _Leave it to Daniel to fall for someone like that!_

Knowing he couldn't delay any longer, Jack took a few steps toward the pair and cleared his throat. Two heads came up, and two sets of eyes blinked at him. The woman was confused, but Daniel grinned. "Jack!"

"Daniel."

"What are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you, too."

"Right. Sorry." Daniel stood and motioned awkwardly. "Jack, meet Rebekah Jacobs. Rebekah, General Jack O'Neill."

Rebekah stood, shaking Jack's proferred hand. "General?"

"Just Jack." He glanced between the pair. "Daniel, have a moment?"

"Uh. . .sure." Daniel turned to Rebekah as Jack slipped back outside. The general hated making her feel isolated right after meeting her, but it couldn't be helped. What he'd come to tell Daniel was related to the Stargate Program, and it couldn't wait.

As soon as Daniel slipped into the early evening warmth, Jack motioned toward the building. "Sorry to pull you away."

"No, it's okay." Daniel had picked up on the tension. "What happened, Jack? Is Sam okay?"

"What?" For a moment, Jack was lost. Then, he realized that his sudden appearance and the fierce expression on his face must have sent the wrong message. "No, Carter's fine. Just heard from her, as a matter of fact. That new place of her's is working out great."

"Good." Daniel relaxed as their code language for the _Hammond_ registered. "What's up?"

"Actually, it's about our friends in San Francisco," Jack said, again using code to refer to the Atlantis Expedition. "There's been an incident. Kavanagh's dead, and it looks like McKay was the last one to see him alive."

~TBC


	6. Chapter 5

**Illusions**

**Chapter Five**

Detective Virginia "Gin" Stevens carefully watched the faces of the one man and four women at the table looking for any sign of grief, remorse, guilt, sorrow. Anything but what she did see. "You don't seem upset or surprised by the news."

The server set Rodney's food order in front of him lingering as long as possible until she realized from their "do you mind" stares that no more would be said until she was gone. Huffing, she returned to the counter where she, Chuy the busboy, and the bartender watched with intense curiosity. Gin ignored her waiting for someone to respond to her remark.

Amanda crossed her arms and glared at the detectives. "That's because we aren't surprised _or _upset."

"All of you knew the victim." Gin made the question a statement.

Teyla nodded. "Yes, we did."

Dusty drew Gin's attention by blowing a bubble and letting it pop. "Didn't like him."

Amanda laid a hand on the Sergeant's arm. "But we didn't want him dead." Reluctantly, Dusty agreed.

Gin watched a glance pass between Rodney and Jennifer who were sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. Jennifer nervously twisted the ring on her left hand and Rodney reached over to take it in his. She didn't need to be a detective to know they were engaged and being in the quickie wedding capital of North America with their friends told her they were here to get married. "What about you two? How do _you_ feel about the deceased?"

Rodney shifted in his seat but didn't say anything when Jennifer tightened her hold.

"We knew him too." Seven faces turned at the sound of Chuck's voice. He was standing beside Amelia both dressed casually, their faces grim.

Gin's partner pulled out a pad and pen. "I see. My partner's going to take down your names and contact information. We'll call you to arrange a time to take your statements."

Though she made it sound like request, she knew they heard the order underneath. As one, the group nodded, quietly giving Jase Maguire the requested information. While he was doing that, Gin went to confer with the medical examiner and a few minutes later, a stretcher with a black body bag strapped to it was wheeled out. Two unnies lifted the yellow tape as two men guided the stretcher through the lobby and out the front door while the CSIs swarmed over the area.

~~O~~

The Atlanteans watched the stretcher bearing Kavanagh's body go then faced the table again not meeting each other's eyes. Two more chairs were brought so Chuck and Amelia could join them, but still no one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What's with all the cops?"

Rodney and Jennifer jumped and Amanda inhaled sharply when John stopped next to her. Ronon nudged Dusty's shoulder while Teyla touched Evan's hand needing comfort but unwilling to ask for it from the friend who'd come to this event as her date. She watched his expression as Amanda gave them a rundown of the events noting that only his eyes showed his emotions. He too was unsurprised when told the victim's name.

"They're obviously looking at us as potential persons of interest due to Rodney's run-in with Kavanagh the other day." Amanda voiced what they were all thinking.

Teyla saw John eyeing the two detectives assigned to the case without seeming to do so. They were currently interviewing a man she recognized as having been present the night Rodney had fought with Kavanagh. The noise level of the casino had begun to climb again now that part of the area had been reopened to the public keeping the Athosian from hearing what the witness told the police. But that didn't matter. She knew what he was saying.

~~O~~

When the witness merged into the growing crowd, Jase and Gin put their heads together. He nodded in the Atlanteans' direction. "We've got some new players."

"I see. We'll give them some time to be brought up to speed then go have a few words."

"You're not worried that they'll have enough time to co-ordinate their stories?"

"No. I'm betting the guy in black, the one in dark blue and the gum-chewer are all military. The one with the dreads…"

Jase snorted. "I'd be careful of him. He looks like someone you don't wanna cross _or_ meet in a dark alley or a lighted one either."

"We heard back from Ramirez. Campbell and Banks are military. The rest are civilians. That McKay is a scientist, theoretical physicist. His fiancée and the other blond are both medical doctors. The redhead's from Tanzania. They must be into something heavy because we've run up against a brick wall in their background checks. Probably caught the attention of someone big, if I don't miss my guess. We should prepare to be told to back off." Gin's stubborn expression told him what she thought of that scenario.

"They're a close-knit group. I think the chances that any of them would lie to save another are very high." Gin's expression, always thoughtful, didn't change, but Jase knew her, knew her moods and the way her mind worked. She was certain at least one of them had something to do with the death of their DB and was determined to figure it out. _He_ was determined too. They both took their work seriously in a place known for being less than serious about life in general.

Unnies and a couple of plainclothes were questioning other potential witnesses while Jase and Gin returned to the overfilled table. The group all looked guilty in one way or another. Jase snickered to himself. Lean on the right one and they'd have this case closed in time for Gin and her family to leave for their Disneyland vacation on time. And he'd be on a plane for Bermuda with Elaine. _No problem. This is open and shut._

~~O~~

Dr. Araceli Velazquez followed behind the stretcher bearing the body of the deceased already readying her mind to complete the autopsy on the dead man. The lead on this case had ordered that this one take priority due to the fact that the persons of interest in the case weren't locals, but scientists and military without close ties to the community. They wanted it wrapped up quickly before the press got wind of it though it was more than likely that one or more of the onlookers had already begun to report on the incident.

Incident. A refined way of describing the death of a human being, but the only way she could continue doing her job without it driving her nuts.

Inside her pocket, her phone vibrated against her hip. She stripped off her gloves and glanced at the screen. The caller I.D. said "unknown", a word that had come to strike loathing and more than a little fear in her heart. Snorting to herself, she mused that she no longer had a heart. It had been hardened by her visible job as well as her invisible one though they hadn't called on her for nearly two years. She should have known they hadn't forgotten about her. They never forget _anything_. The smallest infraction, no matter how innocent it had seemed at the time, could be held against someone, used to force their network of moles to advance their cause, whatever that was. She didn't know and sure as hell didn't care. Every time she thought they were done with her, they appeared again wearing smiles that weren't meant to comfort or console.

It wasn't a stretch to figure out that it was her current case that had caught their attention. She had no idea how they moved so fast and didn't really care.

Araceli briefly considered not answering but she knew it would be futile. If she didn't answer now, they'd send someone around to make their request in person. And _that_ she didn't want. Taking a deep breath, she forced her voice to sound amiable and friendly, as if the person on the other end were someone she wanted to speak to. "Velazquez. Talk to me."

**LVPD Interrogation Room 2**

The Atlanteans loitered around the waiting area in various states of anticipation, expectation and annoyance. Evan, Dusty, Ronon and Chuck leaned against the walls. Jennifer, Teyla and Amanda sat on benches and chairs. Amelia and John were the only two pacing while Gin and Jase took turns questioning Rodney. Knowing their friend's penchant for becoming nervous in such situations made them all edgy even though Woolsey was in with the physicist as he had been with the rest of them.

The longer Rodney stayed in there the longer they stared at the door waiting for their friend to be released. And the longer it took, the jumpier they became though the only one who didn't seem to feel it was Ronon. The Satedan slid down the wall to sit on the floor appearing to have fallen asleep. But they all knew that looks could be misleading, especially with Ronon.

The group came to full alertness when Rodney was escorted out to them by Jase, Woolsey squeezing out behind them. Jase looked at Rodney, but his words were for all of them. "Go on about your business, but _don't_ leave town. We may want to speak to you again." Two uniformed officers came forward. "These gentlemen will take you back to your hotel."

Woolsey nodded. "We understand, Detective." Gesturing the others toward the door, Woolsey followed his colleagues.

Outside, Jennifer's professional façade crumbled as she threw herself into Rodney's arms. "You were in there so long I thought…"

"I didn't _do_ it, Jennifer."

"I know."

"I'm certain that the real killer will be brought to justice and our lives will go back to the way they were before, Dr. McKay." Turning his left wrist over, Woolsey sighed. It was well after midnight though in Sin City, one could never tell. The streets and casinos were as busy now as they were at noon or dinner time. "My suggestion is that we continue with our plans as if nothing were wrong. We wouldn't want to alarm the family members scheduled to arrive tomorrow."

~~O~~

Chuck and Amelia declined to be driven, opting instead to take a cab back to their hotel. The first few minutes of the ride were spent in silence. As they passed the MGM Grand, Chuck shifted in his seat.

"Chuck, why didn't we tell the others we got married?"

He reached over and took her hand twining their fingers together. "Nothing is more important to me than _you_. But I don't want them worrying about us when there's a bigger issue at hand."

"Yeah. I know none of us…" Amelia glanced at the back of the driver's head and back, "…did this, but that fight he had with you-know-who makes him look guilty."

"And guilt by association for the rest of us." Leaning as close as he could, Chuck planted a kiss on Amelia's mouth. "We'll figure it out."

"I know." Her eyes drifted shut at the touch of his mouth on hers.

What neither of them noticed was Ronon watching from the window of another cab or his nod of approval.

**LVPD Autopsy Room**

The room smelled of death, chemicals, coffee and sweat, but mostly death. As long as Araceli had been a coroner she'd hoped to be used to the odors that accompanied the end of a human life. As she scrubbed for the autopsy on Peter Kavanagh the conversation she had on the phone at the murder scene replayed in her head.

It had been the reason she'd sent her assistant away telling him that he should be spending time with his girlfriend instead of helping her cut open yet another dead body. His smile of thanks warmed her slightly. That warmth faded quickly when her eyes caught sight of her personal cell phone lying on the desk, its screen dark. She wasn't uneasy about being alone in a room filled with dead bodies. She'd never have sent Bobby home, never have taken up this profession if she was afraid of the dark.

Her uneasiness came from the fact that _they_ were watching her every move. Day and night. At home, at work, the grocery store. Even the hairdresser. No place was safe. They could see everything. Knew everything about her, her family, her co-workers and their families.

Shutting off the water with her elbows, Araceli turned as the sliding doors opened and two men came in wheeling a stretcher with a body bag strapped to it. They carefully lifted the bag onto the far left table, the one nearest the exit then left without exchanging so much as a word and that was fine with her. Words weren't necessary for them to complete their jobs and she just didn't want to deal with even the small courtesies tonight. The men sensed her mood and obliged her just as they always did. They were good guys, hardworking family men who were active in their respective churches. And that brought to mind the last time she'd been in a church.

_I should go back…before it's too late. Who am I kidding? It's already too late._

Pushing thoughts of her past from her mind, she dried her hands, tossed the towel in a biohazard bin and slipped on a pair of gloves. Reaching for a face guard, she adjusted the headband to fit leaving the faceplate up for now.

Approaching this job as if it were any other, she unzipped the bag and spread the sides so she could see the face of the man she'd be cutting open in just a few minutes. His face had been beaten to the point that even his own mother wouldn't have known him. He had multiple contusions and lacerations, maybe even shot. She'd know more once she got to work.

With practiced ease, she removed the bag then set about divesting him of his clothing, sliding it into evidence bags, sealing and labeling them with the deceased's name and case number.

With a deep sigh that seemed to start in the darkest recesses of her soul, Araceli got to work.

~~O~~

Jennifer turned off the light in the bathroom and pulled the door closed. Rodney still sat in the same place as when she'd gone to take her shower. His unseeing eyes still stared at the dark television screen, the remote in his right hand. She padded over to crouch next to him. "Rodney?"

"Yeah?"

"Mr. Woolsey was right. Let's just forget about Kavanagh for now." She took his hand to pull him to his feet. "Take a hot shower. You'll feel better."

"Don't want to."

She managed not to laugh at the petulant childish tone of his voice. Her own expression changed to wicked as she untied the belt on her floor length terry cloth robe and slowly parted the sides. "Go take a shower like a good boy and you'll get a special treat when you come out." The last couple of words were said in a sing-song voice, the last one lost as the bathroom door slammed.

**Rodney and Jennifer's**

**Wedding Day**

_Bambambambambam!_

"Stop making so much _noise!_ I'm coming!" Rodney yanked the door open to see Ronon standing there with his hand raised. "What?!"

"Sheppard said to get up."

"And you _had_ to wake the entire _floor?_" Pressing a hand to his head, Rodney left the door open as he went to the minibar and took out a bottle of root beer. He popped the top and used it to swallow Tylenol while Ronon leaned against the closed door.

"Gotta get dressed."

"I know." Rodney went to the closet and took out a garment bag. "Well don't just _stand_ there, Conan. Go get ready."

"Where's Beckett?"

Waving his hand, Rodney tossed his shoes at the foot of the bed. "Off on one of his quests."

"It'll be okay."

Too tired and too hung over to pretend he didn't know what the Satedan was talking about, Rodney stopped fussing with his tux and let out a long sigh. "How?" He faced his friend. "We _all_ had a motive to kill him."

"Yeah. But so did lots of other people."

"Like everyone who'd every met him? The man was obnoxious and despicable both personally and professionally. He couldn't go more than a few minutes without _pissing_ somebody off."

"Don't think about it."

"How can I _avoid_ it?"

"You're marrying Jennifer."

"Oh. Right." The physicist pointed to the bathroom. "I'm gonna get ready. You should too."

Ronon opened the door and stepped out into the hall, the door slamming behind him.

~~O~~

John stood next to Rodney at the front of the small chapel, his friend looking as if he had a dark cloud over his head and wishing everything could be different. Then Rodney saw Jennifer coming down the aisle on her father's arm, and just like that, it all changed.

From that point on the wedding went off without incident, despite predictions to the contrary, thereby setting the tone for the life they would be making together.

The wedding party arrived back at the hotel and the reception began on schedule. John gave his best man speech, played a recording of Carson and a few others wishing Rodney and Jennifer a long and happy life then Daniel Jackson got up and said a few words. The archaeologist even read something from Sam and Jack.

Hours later, the party began winding down yet the band played on, people danced, partook of the buffet and ordered from the bar. John sipped from his beer as he watched Evan dancing with Teyla. If he didn't miss his guess, the two of them were on their way to becoming more than just the friends they kept trying to convince everyone they were.

His musings were interrupted when Amanda slipped into the chair next to him. "Still thinking about who might've killed Kavanagh?"

"Tryin' not to."

Casting a quick glance around the room to make sure they weren't being watched, Amanda leaned close. "I can help take your mind off of whatever it is." Her husky whisper got his attention like nothing else could.

He responded without changing expression. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

Amanda put her mouth close to John's ear saying just a few words that brought a big smile to his face, the speculation about his 2IC's relationship with Teyla completely forgotten. He sat up straighter in his chair. "Ever heard of reciprocity?"

A low growl came from her throat as she lightly nipped his earlobe. "Quid Pro Quo. My favorite Latin expression."

John took Amanda's hand, getting to his feet and pulling her up beside him. "How about we…"

The tinkle of a spoon being tapped against a champagne glass drew their attention to Rodney and Jennifer standing in front of the bridal party's table. "Your attention please!"

The band was on a break and the guests still remaining quieted. Jennifer looked radiant in her ivory satin halter-style gown. Instead of a full skirt, she'd elected for an empire waist with a modest train. The fingertip-length veil was made in the same pattern as the lacy overskirt. "Rodney and I would like to thank all of you for coming. Spending this special time with our loved ones has made our wedding day truly memorable."

"However, it's been a long week and an even _longer_ day so we're gonna head out. Good night."

Jennifer took Rodney's hand and pulled him toward the door just as two uninvited guests entered. "Those are the detectives that questioned us the other day. Why are they here?" Her voice was low and tight.

"Don't know. Don't care. Let's go out the back way." The couple located the employee entrance and had only taken two steps when a voice called out to them.

"Going somewhere, Dr. McKay, Dr. Keller?" Gin approached with Jase at her side and two grim-faced uniformed officers trailing behind.

Rodney whirled on them with more bravado than he felt if John went by his expression. "Of _course_ we're going somewhere. We just got _married_."

"Afraid you'll have to postpone your honeymoon. Maybe indefinitely." Jase reached into his inside jacket pocket. "Some new information has come to our attention from CSI and witness reports."

Woolsey came forward, the rest of Rodney and Jennifer's family and friends crowding around. Jase slapped a folded sheet of paper into the diplomat's outstretched hand. "This is a warrant."

Gin nodded with her chin and the unnies moved to stand behind Rodney. "Keep it. We have copies." Taking a card from her pocket, Gin read from it as the physicist was nudged away from Jennifer's side. "Dr. Rodney McKay, you are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Peter Kavanagh. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" The cuffs were snapped around Rodney's wrists while his family, wife and friends looked on in horror

Jeannie pushed to the front of the group, Kaleb at her side. "What the hell's going on, Mer?"

"I…" Rodney was so staggered at what was happening to him he could barely talk. "Yes. Yes, I do. But I didn't…I didn't kill him." The detectives ignored his attempts to proclaim his innocence.

"What are you _doing?_" Jennifer clutched at Rodney's sleeve, panic in her eyes and voice. John came forward to stand next to her, his jaw clenching with the need to suppress the desire to punch out the cops dragging his just married friend off to jail. "John! Mr. Woolsey! _Do_ something! How can they think Rodney would kill _anyone_, even Kavanagh?"

Jennifer tried to hold onto to Rodney to keep him from being taken away, but the female detective stepped between them. She jerked her hands free and stepped to the side to go around her, but John wrapped his arms around her as she struggled against his strength. The doors of the cruiser slammed and the last thing they saw was Rodney's face looking out the back window as it pulled into traffic.

"It'll be okay, doc."

"No. It won't! He…he won't survive if he has to stay there." Now angry, she pushed away from John just as her father walked up.

"Jenn? I'm so sorry, honey. From what I've heard, this Kavanagh person was not very likeable."

"That's putting it lightly, Dad." She went to her father and was enveloped in his comforting embrace, her voice choking. "Rodney _didn't_ do it. He _couldn't!_" Gripping him tight, she let the tears flow.

Richard Keller rubbed his daughter's back in attempt to comfort her even knowing it was impossible. Her husband of just a few hours had been arrested as they left their wedding reception. The only way to soothe that ache was for Rodney to be released. "I know. Rodney's a good man. Something like this just isn't a part of his personality."

Behind her, John conferred quietly with Woolsey, Ronon, Teyla, Jeannie and Kaleb. Woolsey had a few words with the bell captain and a short time later, a four-door sedan pulled up to the curb. The expedition commander got in and it followed in the wake of the cruiser that had taken her husband away.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 6

"Whatcha doin'?"

Rebekah looked up, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes, as Marina plopped into the chair next to her. She'd been writing in the journal Daniel had given her, something that always made her think of him and still managed to help her work out her story frustrations. At this moment, however, her biggest frustration was her nosy friend. "Hi, Marina. I'm writing. What are you doing?"

Marina just grinned. "Wondering what you're doing _here_ when you've 'had plans' the last four Fridays in a row." She made air quote with her fingers and sighed. "No date with Mr. Hottie?

"It's _Doctor_ Daniel Jackson, and we aren't seeing each other." Rebekah didn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that."

"Honey, you can tell me that all you want, but it won't change what the rest of us at the writers' group sees." Marina paused long enough for the waitress to deliver her meal. "That man is smitten. And, by the looks of it. . . .Did you just say _Doctor_ Jackson? He's the hottest medical doctor I've seen in years!"

Rebekah snickered, almost choking on her coffee in the process. "I'm surprised it took you that long to catch up. And, no. Doctor of Archaeology, Anthropology, and Linguistics."

"_Multiple_ PhDs?" Marina's eyes kept getting wider. "You really know how to pick 'em!"

Rebekah didn't even deign that with an answer. She merely went back to writing even though her train of thought was completely broken. Marina had a point about how attractive Daniel was, but neither of them had mentioned anything about turning their friendship into anything more. They'd met for dinner almost every Friday evening since she dropped her books on his toes, and he was faithful to attend all of her writing clinics. In that time, both of them had become comfortable with one another, and last week's little interruption had done nothing to slow down the flirting going back and forth. Daniel had been reading over her shoulder—something Rebekah typically hated but found she could tolerate with him—and he'd been trying to correct her grammar. When she told him she'd worry about it later, he had happily made himself comfortable with correcting it for her. That dissolved into a playful argument which resulted in both of them having pen marks on their hands from the entire affair.

"Earth to Rebekah!" Marina's playful voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"What?"

"I asked what you're working on." Marina motioned toward the journal with her fork. "You've been staring at that page pretty intently for the last. . .oh. . .five minutes or so."

Finally admitting she wouldn't get any more work done, she closed the journal and set aside her pen. "I was brainstorming."

"For your original piece?"

"Yeah." She ran a hand over her face. "I haven't started writing yet because I want to have everything in order."

"So, you're planning this one as obsessively as all of them?"

"Of course."

"You never answered my question about Dr. Hottie." Marina never looked up from her plate even though she smirked.

Rebekah let out an explosive sigh. "He's out of town."

"Business?"

"No, actually." Rebekah grinned. "A colleague's wedding. He invited me to go along, but I couldn't get the time off work."

_That_ threw Marina for a moment. "Daniel asked you to go to a wedding with him? And you're not dating?"

Even Rebekah knew how unlikely that was. She shrugged. "Yeah."

"You really need to get your head out of those romance books you write. You've got a real life one sitting right in front of you, and you're not taking any chances!"

"Marina, you know it's not that simple!"

"It _is_ that simple!" Marina decided to be serious for once, leaving behind all the jokes and innuendo that she could put into her statements. "Listen, Beks. In the five years I've known you, you've never looked twice at a man who didn't play one of your favorite characters on TV. You've never even let one who did ask you out distract you from your life. Now, one has come along who is _incredibly_ attractive, a touch mysterious, and _very_ interested in you. What are you doing about it? Sitting there writing in a journal! Do you _see_ my problem, here?"

"And what happens if I decide to date him?" Rebekah asked quietly. "What happens if, a month from now, I figure out I'm in love with him and he's not even interested in me like that?"

"He wouldn't have asked you out if he wasn't."

"He's a _friend_." Rebekah met Marina's eyes. "When we go out to dinner, we meet somewhere and share the bill. That's what _friends_ do."

"And yet he invited you to go to this wedding with him."

"He was being nice."

Marina snorted. "Keep up the good work lying to yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Rebekah, listen." Marina touched her arm, using her full name instead of the irritating nickname that usually came out of her mouth. "Take it from your past experience. Being alone is great, being with someone is better. Being with a guy who treats you the way Dr. Hottie does is best."

"You don't have a clue how he treats me."

Marina smirked. "I see how he is when he's here. Usually by the time I arrive, the two of you have coffee. He watches every move you make, takes notes, and hangs on your every word. He's older than you by. . .what? Ten years? Guys like that hold the door for you, let you go first, treat you like a real lady instead of someone to share their bed. He looks you in the eye when you're talking and doesn't seem to think anything of hanging out after your clinics just to talk to _you_. Do I have it right?"

Rebekah stared at the cover of her journal, not wanting to admit that Marina had pretty much described how Daniel treated her. "Maybe?"

"Maybe?" Marina shook her head. "Years from now, when you look back and realize how blind you were about this whole thing, don't blame me for not telling you." She got up and stalked off to the ladies' room.

Rebekah continued to stare at the cover of her journal as she absorbed Marina's words. Her friend was pretty adamant about this, very serious and not at all like Rebekah was accustomed to hearing her. And she was right. Rebekah hated to admit that, and it caused her stomach to clench. She was thirty-five years old, single, and very tired of society wondering why she wasn't seeing anyone. Most of the women in the writers' group had, at one point in time or another, tried to set her up with one of their friends. They had the best of intentions, but Rebekah simply wasn't interested in a stable relationship. She'd had that in the past and had failed at it.

But Daniel was different. He had been different from the moment Rebekah met him. They'd connected, and Rebekah looked forward to the time they spent together. Tonight, just before Marina had arrived, she'd been missing Daniel's presence and wondering if she should have found a way to go to that wedding. But that would have created more problems as Daniel's friends would have started asking questions. Instead, she sat here, miserable and lonely.

Marina returned a few moments later, catching her as she slowly opened the journal back to the page she'd been using. "Hey. You okay?"

"No," Rebekah admitted.

"Look, I'm sorry I lost it." Marina slipped back into her chair. "I just. . .I want to see you happy and I think you and Daniel have a chance."

Rebekah tried to smile, but her friend's words had hurt more than a little. Marina knew what Rebekah had gone through in the past. They hadn't known each other then, but Rebekah had told Marina about her failed marriage and how devastating it had been on her. Even now, she doubted any man when he told her how good she looked. The fact that Daniel's compliments were usually quiet, heartfelt, and sometimes not even verbal didn't matter. She just had a terrible time believing that men found her attractive.

"You know what you need?" Marina again interrupted her thoughts.

"Chocolate?"

"A makeover."

"A _what_?"

"Yep." Marina grinned. "When does Dr. Hottie get back?"

"S—S—Sunday." Rebekah couldn't help the stutter. The suggestion had blindsided her, and she was still trying to figure out how Daniel's return date had anything to do with this proposed makeover that Marina had in mind.

"Perfect!" Marina pulled out her cell and dialed a number from memory. A few moments later, she grinned. "Hey, Sarah! How are you? Good, I'm good. Listen, I need a favor. I've got a friend here I'd like to treat to everything. . . .Yeah, that's right. . . .Hair, mani, pedi, facial, the works. . . ." She turned to critically eye Rebekah. "Let's just say a full makeover. . . .Actually, I was thinking tomorrow if you can fit it into your schedule. . .Oh, you don't? What about next Saturday?" She listened for another moment. "That works. Next Saturday it is. Her name's Rebekah, but it's going on my tab. . . .Thanks, Sarah, you're a lifesaver!"

Rebekah waited until she hung up the phone. "What are you doing?"

"A favor." Marina looked her in the eye. "There's nothing wrong with a little pampering now and then, and I think Dr. Hottie will love it. Besides, I told you on your birthday your gift would be big, and I never followed through."

"A _makeover_?"

"And. . .?" Marina grinned. "It's gonna be great!"

Marina's excitement was contagious, and Rebekah couldn't stop the grin that wanted to form. Instead, she just rolled her eyes as it escaped. "I just hope this isn't a huge mistake."

~~O~~

Monday morning, Daniel headed for the SGC control room. He'd been neck-deep in paperwork from Las Vegas when Walter called him about a priority communique from the _Hammond_. Now, he sighed. He'd been looking forward to this contact with Sam, to hearing from her and confirming their plans for the weekend. Instead, he got to tell her that things had gone south yet again and then break the news that a former colleague had been arrested.

Vala, freshly returned from the Land of Light, bounced to his side. "Hello, Daniel."

"Hey." He let her hop onto the elevator ahead of him and then punched the button for Level 28. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he eyed her. "You look well."

She tossed her head. "I _am_ well. You look like you haven't slept."

"That's because I haven't."

"Why not?"

"Oh, let's just say things went sideways. Like they always do." Daniel reached out and snagged her arm when she left the elevator and turned the wrong direction. "Remember the wedding we were all going to while you were with Keret? Well, it turns out that it didn't end as well as it should have."

Vala blinked. "Bride got left at the altar?"

"No."

"Bride left the groom at the altar?"

"No."

"Someone showed up who had problems with them getting married?"

"No."

"They eloped?"

"Would you just _let_ me finish?"

"Sorry."

"_Any_way, as I was saying, the wedding didn't end as planned." He held up a hand to stop her from commenting. "The wedding went great, vows were exchanged, the bride was beautiful, the groom never happier, and the reception fantastic. But, as they were leaving the wedding, the police showed up."

"Noise violation?"

"Murder charges."

Vala blinked at that. "Against. . .?"

"The groom."

"Oh, dear." She frowned. "Did he do it?"

"McKay?" Daniel actually snickered. "Believe me, as much as I don't exactly get along with McKay, I can't ever imagine him actually _murdering_ someone in cold blood. He's arrogant and absolutely frustrating, but he's a good man. He wouldn't have done something like that."

"So, you're trying to figure out who would have had a motive to frame McKay for murder?"

"Exactly." Daniel stopped just outside the control room. "Listen, I spoke with McKay while I was there. He knows Sam's coming in with the _Hammond_ this weekend, and he knows we had this team bar-b-que scheduled with her. He was adamant we not tell her anything until after she arrived on Earth and that we go ahead with our plans. I don't like it, but it's what he wants. In the meantime, we're gonna keep working to clear his name and figure out who's behind this."

Vala nodded mutely, and they resumed their walk up the stairs. After a few seconds of silence, she bounced again. "So, anything else happen while I was gone?"

"Like what?"

"Dinner with Rebekah, maybe."

Daniel stifled a groan. After Jack found him and Rebekah more or less flirting in the coffee shop the night of Kavanagh's murder, news had gotten out to the rest of SG-1 that he was "seeing someone." Vala had been relentless in her quest to meet Rebekah and had been disappointed when he refused to introduce her to them.

Fortunately, Sam saved him from having to reply. She grinned when his face appeared on the screen. "Daniel!"

"Hey, Sam." He sat down in the chair as Vala hovered over him, waving at Sam. "How's things?"

"Good. We're on schedule to be home in three days."

"That's good, 'cause we have plans for you on Saturday evening." Daniel rolled his eyes when Sam actually snickered. He knew from experience that Vala was trying to tell Sam something without interrupting him. He turned. "Would you like to say something, Vala?"

"Yes." The dark-haired woman grinned. "Sam, Daniel's seeing someone!"

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Yes!" The admission was out before he could stop it. He sighed and gave Vala his patented look of irritation. "As I was saying, we've got plans. Jack wants to do a team dinner, so we're meeting at my place."

Sam's smile widened. "That sounds great. So, who's this mystery woman?"

At that moment, Daniel seriously contemplated shooting Vala with a zat. "She's. . .uh. . . ."

Vala took over. "According to Daniel, she's _incredible_!"

"I didn't say that!"

"No, darling, you wouldn't." Vala patted him on the shoulder.

Sam interrupted them, her grin staying just as wide as before. "And Vala knows this how?"

Vala waved a hand. "General O'Neill," she crowed. "He apparently found them together and said Daniel looked 'happy.' Daniel later told us that they'd had dinner a few times."

Sam's eyes turned toward Daniel. "I'd love to meet her."

"Of course you would," he muttered.

"Hey, bring her on Saturday." Sam shrugged. "We could get to know her a little better and ease her way into the 'family.'"

"It's not like we're. . . ." Daniel stopped speaking when Sam held up a hand. As soon as the grin disappeared from her face, he knew that duty had called. "Take care, Sam. We'll see you later this week."

A few moments later, the screen went dead. Daniel stared at it for another long moment. He missed Sam, more than he'd thought he would. She had become his sister over the years, and he missed working with her.

Vala finally straightened. "There. Was that so hard?"

Daniel frowned, trying to follow her line of reasoning. "Was what so hard?"

"Inviting Rebekah to the team dinner."

Refusing to answer, Daniel stood and headed back for his office. He had too much work to do to think about what the two female members of SG-1 had just done to him. When Jack had let the tidbit about Rebekah slip out, everyone had been interested. Teal'c and Mitchell had dropped the subject, but Vala had been persistent. And he knew Sam would be just as persistent. With a sigh, he glanced at his watch. Rebekah was at work for another three hours, and then he'd call her.

Decision made, he set aside his personal life and went back to the mounds of paperwork on his desk. He had a friend in jail, and he intended to see him cleared of all charges.

~~O~~

Saturday afternoon, Rebekah stared at herself in the mirror and had the sinking suspicion that she'd just made a horrible mistake. Not that she could change it, but her stomach clenched. She ran her fingers through her newly-cut hair, letting herself critically assess her new look.

Marina had appeared right on time that morning, dragging a half-awake Rebekah to the salon. While they waited, Rebekah told her friend about her latest dinner with Daniel and his invitation to the team bar-b-que at his place. She rolled her eyes when Marina immediately insisted that she go after her makeover, and Rebekah had to hide the sly grin that formed as a way to get back for all the teasing.

The morning and early afternoon passed in a lazy fashion as Rebekah relaxed enough to enjoy the day. While waiting, she and Marina perused books of hairstyles and picked one that both liked. Now, however, Rebekah wasn't so certain. Her hair had been quite long before, but it now fell to just past her shoulders at the longest. Layers fell around her face in a flattering manner, and she liked how easy it was to style. But she worried about the reception she'd get today. After all, she hadn't exactly told Daniel about this belated birthday gift. Then, she rolled her eyes. She was overthinking things and making a bigger deal out of it than it should be. Giving herself a firm mental shake, she reached for her purse and keys, thankful she'd had the forethought to insist on driving.

Marina, who had also undergone her own transformation, grinned. "You look amazing! And if Dr. Hottie can't see that, then he's not worth your time."

"Thanks, Marina." She let her irritation color her voice just slightly, knowing it would always be like this between the two of them. Sliding behind the wheel of the car, she shrugged. "I guess the hair was a big change, and I'm just. . . ."

Marina reached over and ran a hand through the newly shortened locks. "It suits you."

The two women fell silent, and Rebekah let herself get lost in her thoughts as she drove. The night before, Daniel had given her directions to his house, and she'd memorized them as she debated whether or not to even accept his invitation. He admitted that the team he worked with both in the past and in the present would be there, that they were all like family, and that they all wanted to meet her. She wondered exactly what he'd told her about them and then realized that it likely didn't matter. General O'Neill, the man who had interrupted them just before Daniel went to that wedding, had likely teased Daniel a time or two. While Rebekah hadn't had a chance to do much more than meet the guy, he seemed to have a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

Marina finally broke the silence. "Um. . .where are we going?"

Rebekah grinned at her. "If I'm going to this bar-b-que, then you're coming with me."

"What?" For a moment, her irrepressible friend was shocked. "No. No, no, no! Take me home. It was an invitation for you, and I don't want to intrude!"

"Marina, relax! It's not like it's just me and Daniel. His entire team is going to be there." Rebekah glanced over to see genuine concern on her friend's face. "Besides, if I had to do the makeover with you—which I thoroughly enjoyed—then you have to go to this with me. I promise I won't do anything to embarrass you so long as you just be yourself."

Marina gave her a doubtful glance. "So, I can call you 'Beks?'"

"No."

"Aw. . .but you said I could be myself!"

"Besides that."

The two women continued to bicker the rest of the way to Daniel's place. Rebekah pulled up outside the modest single-story home, seeing a well-maintained lawn and smoke from a grill rising from the back yard. Various vehicles, including Daniel's Jeep and a large pick-up, lined the narrow street. Rebekah's heart immediately started pounding again as she gave herself a quick once-over. Today, she wore a white blouse and jeans, the bright blue scarf draped around her shoulders adding just a touch of color. It was casual but elegant, and she wondered if she should just keep on driving. Movement in the front window told her she'd been spotted, and she realized there wasn't any way to get out of this.

A glance at Marina revealed that her friend was just as uncomfortable with the idea. Rebekah sighed. "Look, if you're really not happy with this, I can take you home."

"Would you come back if you did?" When Rebekah didn't answer, Marina nodded. "That's what I thought. Let's go. It's just a bar-b-que, right? What could happen?"

Rebekah shook her head as she opened her door. "Famous last words!"

The two women left the car behind and walked slowly up the drive. They heard some laughter from the back yard and shared a nervous grin. Rebekah idly wondered why Marina was so nervous about this and then decided she must have felt like she would intrude on a special event. Deciding that wasn't the case, she knocked on the door and waited to see what Daniel's reaction would be when he answered.

A huge African man wearing a hat answered the door, staring blankly at them. Marina's head tipped back, and she actually sounded shocked when she spoke. "Whoa! Big fella!"

The man raised an eyebrow at her in a very eloquent move. "Can I help you?"

Rebekah took over before Marina stuck her foot in her mouth. "I'm Rebekah Jacobs. I was looking for Dr. Jackson?"

The man's mouth tipped up in a small smile, and he suddenly seemed a bit more inviting as he stepped back. "You have arrived at the correct address, Rebekah Jacobs. Please, come in."

Feeling more than a little out of place, the two women walked through the door. The hallway stretched from side to side, opening on the left into a fairly large living room. Rebekah caught a glimpse of two women, one with thick black hair and one with blond hair, before Daniel bounded around the corner. "Rebekah, hey!" He stopped and blinked. "Wow! Uh. . .you look great!"

As Marina nudged her arm, Rebekah grinned. "Thanks." Her hand automatically went to her much shorter hair, and she forced herself to stay in place rather than bolting out the front door. "I hope it's okay if I brought Marina with me."

"Of course." Daniel motioned behind her. "I see you've met Murray."

The big man nodded, making it seem more like a bow than a nod. "It is my honor to make your acquaintance, Rebekah Jacobs."

"Thanks." She tried to smile, but the guy was just too intimidating to her.

Daniel didn't seem to have any compulsions about the man, though. He led Rebekah further into the house, pointing and introducing people as he did so. Vala Mal Doran, the woman with black hair, bounced over to shake her hand and thank her for coming. Rebekah instantly knew that she'd found Marina's doppelganger even if the women looked totally different. They had the same outgoing personality. Air Force Colonel Samantha Carter was a bit more reserved, shaking Rebekah's hand and welcoming her with a smile. Fellow Colonel Cameron Mitchell grinned and also shook Rebekah's hand, but his focus shifted to Marina within seconds.

Sam, as she insisted on being called, pulled Rebekah over to a chair as Vala shoved a bottle of water into her hand. "So, Rebekah, Daniel tells me you're a writer?"

With that opening, Rebekah began to settle into the group. She kept an eye on all the people, feeling a bit overwhelmed but thrilled when Daniel came to her side and joined her conversation with Sam. She gave him a smile and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe these people weren't as intimidating as they seemed. Besides, if she was going to be friends with Daniel, she needed to get to know those who made up his "family," as he called them. Determined that she could get through at least one meal with them, she allowed herself to get caught up in conversation and just ignore her natural tendency to hide. Based on the smile on Daniel's face, it was worth it.

~~O~~

With Cassie outside and making certain Jack didn't completely char the meat, Daniel took a few moments to sit down next to Rebekah. He was still absorbing the change in her, amazed at the drastic difference. She'd told him that Marina was taking her for a makeover that day, but he hadn't expected something like this. She really looked _great_! Her hair had been highlighted to bring out the natural red tones, and it framed her face perfectly. The style wasn't too modern, either, something that Daniel appreciated. Her bright blue scarf with a pale pink pattern tracing its way through it only highlighted the changes, and he grinned when Sam caught him openly staring.

Knowing that there would be a _lot_ of teasing after Rebekah went home, Daniel gratefully slipped outside when Cassie called for him. The college sophomore glanced at Rebekah but didn't say anything when Daniel joined her in convincing Jack that not everyone liked their meat black on the outside. By the time he got back inside, Sam and Vala had coaxed Rebekah into helping set the table.

For just a moment, he watched the women work and thought over the events of the day. SG-1, both past and present, could be a bit overwhelming to an outsider. But something else was going on. Every time he told Rebekah how nice she looked, whether during dinner or like he had when she first arrived, he saw this frisson of doubt begin to make its way into her eyes. It seemed like she didn't believe him, and he suddenly wondered what had put that idea in her head. She was a beautiful woman, and he'd finally admitted just how much he liked her. Still, her doubts about herself almost reminded him of himself back before he ascended. Back then, he felt like he hadn't done anything to contribute to humanity and that the world would, possibly, be better without him. Years later, he was able to look back and realize how self-centered that actually sounded. He _had_ made a difference, in more ways than one. Yes, he'd lost so many people he cared about, but he had learned to move on from those losses. He'd had good friends to nudge him in the right direction and keep him from slipping back into the depression that had dogged him since Sha're's death.

But what about Rebekah? She clearly hadn't had the same encouragement in her life, and he often got the feeling she didn't quite know if she could trust him. Daniel understood that, but it went deeper. This wasn't just about her self-esteem. Deciding that he could do something about it today, he figured he would make certain she knew exactly where he stood on her new look.

The women had finished setting the table, so, when she passed by him, Daniel reached out and snagged Rebekah's hand. Pulling her into the kitchen, a nice public room but currently unoccupied, he grinned. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." She glanced behind her, realizing that she wouldn't be missed. "What's up?"

Rather than releasing her hand, Daniel held on to it to keep her close. "You okay?"

"Yes."

"Good." He met her eyes. "I meant what I said earlier. You really look wonderful."

A delightful flush colored her cheeks, and her free hand went to her hair. "Thanks." She shrugged. "It was Marina's idea, and I'm still wondering if I made a _colossal_ mistake."

He reached up and brushed his fingers through the lock of hair that lay across her forehead. "Not a mistake," he said softly as he tried to allow her to see how he really felt about her in general.

Her flush deepened as she apparently saw what he wanted to get across. She straightened just a bit. "Good."

Daniel held her gaze for another long moment before bringing up a topic he hoped didn't send her running for the hills. "Listen, Jack kind of said some things about us that I wanted you to be aware of."

"That we're seeing each other?"

He blinked. "You know?"

"Vala let it slip." Her eyes dropped, and she stared at their joined hands. "I won't lie, Daniel. The idea is a bit scary given my past." She looked up at him. "But, I'd like to find time to talk about the possibility."

"Good." He would have said more, but sudden footsteps interrupted.

Cassie bounded into the kitchen. "Hey, Daniel, Jack's wondering where the. . . .Whoops." She stopped and blinked, looking from Rebekah to Daniel and back.

He felt Rebekah stiffen, but she didn't step away from him. Choosing to take her lead, he simply met Cassie's eyes. "Jack's wondering where. . . .?"

Cassie shook her head to clear it. "The platter for the meat is at. The steaks are done."

"Oh, right!" Daniel reluctantly let go of Rebekah's hand and found the large plate he'd set out for the meat once it finished on the grill.

Cassie glanced between the pair. "Sorry about interrupting." She ducked out of the kitchen before either of them could say anything.

Rebekah leaned into Daniel's side, nudging his arm with her shoulder. "Should I get used to interruptions like that?"

He grinned, the tension broken by her wry glance. "Probably."

A few minutes later, Jack O'Neill came through the door with the main course for their dinner. The group noisily settled at the table, Rebekah seated next to Daniel while Marina stayed close to Mitchell. Daniel watched the pair as they all but ignored everyone else. Maybe having Rebekah's rambunctious friend around was a good thing. A quick glance at the woman next to him told him that he'd made the right call in inviting her. Sam and Vala dominated her time, leaving Daniel, Jack, and Teal'c to watch the women and shake their heads.

This was what family was about.

~~O~~

In a car down the road, a man watched Rebekah and Marina enter the house and smiled. This was good. Very good, in fact. He sat in place for a long time, thinking over the possibilities. Women were great motivators for men, and Rebekah was clearly oblivious to the surveillance. She would be a wonderful tool for him to use.

When he finally drove away, he failed to notice the dark eyes that watched out of a window and the grave expression on the face of a man sworn to protect the life of another.

~TBC


	8. Chapter 7

**Illusions**

**Chapter Seven**

He didn't know how it had happened, but Rodney had a cell to himself. Although everything looked clean, just being in this place made him feel dirty. Washing his hands for a third time, he was startled to hear a familiar voice. Wiping his hands on his pants, he turned to face his visitor. "Come to see the jailbird in his natural habitat?"

"Not funny, Rodney."

Sitting on the side of his bed, Rodney exhaled heavily. "What do you _want_, Daniel?"

Daniel gripped the cell bars with both hands. "I…I just wanted to see how you're doing."

Unable to keep still, Rodney sprang to his feet, paced to one side of the cell then back to the bed. "How do you _think_ I am? I've been arrested for killing _Kavanagh_, of all people."

"You hated him."

"Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual."

"Rodney," Daniel motioned him closer, looking left and right then lowering his voice, "we were supposed to have a team barbeque at my house, but under the circumstances, I'm canceling it. The _Hammond_ is still a few days out. I'll contact Sam so she and Jack can get to work on getting you cleared of these charges as soon as possible."

"No! No, don't cancel. Just because I'm…you don't have to put your lives on hold for me. And don't tell Sam. Not yet."

"She's your friend, Rodney. She would want to know, to help."

Suddenly Rodney got angry. At Daniel. At himself. At God for allowing this to happen. It was irrational, he knew, but he couldn't help it. "This is _my_ life! _Mine!_ And I say no! You are _not_ to tell Sam anything." Just as quickly, the anger was gone. "I'm…It's just that this could all be over by then. They'll find out who really did this and I will be exonerated." He tried to inject confidence into his voice. This wasn't his first time to be jailed for something he'd been accused of doing, though usually it was in an offworld jail that provided more ease of escape.

Daniel reluctantly nodded acceptance of Rodney's wishes. "I'm gonna go sit with Sheppard and the others until your attorney gets here. I'm sure the SGC will go for the best." He reached through the bars and squeezed Rodney's shoulder before turning away.

"Daniel?"

The archaeologist turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"You didn't ask if I did it."

A rueful grin turned up the corners of Daniel's mouth. "'Cause I know you didn't."

~~O~~

The squad room looked just like any other on Earth. Desks, computers, water coolers, file cabinets, computers, phones and cops. Lots of cops. Some in uniform. Some not. But that didn't matter to the group in the hall. What mattered was that one of them was behind bars for a crime he didn't commit. Not an unusual situation for any of them, but this time it wasn't for some imagined offense committed by one of the team when encountering an unknown culture. This time, one of them was accused of a very real crime with far reaching consequences.

John paced back and forth in the hall outside the squad room talking on his cell phone while the others sat on benches, leaned on the walls or paced taking care not to get in John's way or disturb him.

"…No, General, they won't let us in to see him….No, of _course_ he didn't do it…Well, if you go by that, any one of us could've killed him. The evidence is circumstantial and hearsay. I happen to know for a _fact_ he didn't do it…No, I wasn't with him at the time of Kavanagh's death…I just know Rodney. He wouldn't do something like that not without a really good reason. But whoever did, well he or she did us all a favor…No. I've called my brother, asked him to send one of the company's attorneys, one experienced in criminal law…Should be here soon. We'll keep you in the loop…Yes, sir." John jabbed his thumb on the end key and shoved the phone in his pocket while the others stared at him expectantly. "The lawyer will be here soon. Let's just try to relax."

John leaned on the wall, crossed his arms and stared at the floor. His mind whirled trying to make sense of what was happening to Rodney, to Jennifer, to all of them. On Atlantis, he would run off his frustration, but here, all he could do was pace or stand still. He'd already paced a furrow in the floor. Now it was time to be still.

A pair of feet in white pumps stepped into his vision. Knowing what he'd see, he followed the slim calves to shapely knees. Just above, the hem of a white cocktail dress skimmed over firm thighs and a narrow waist. Hazel eyes smiled sadly at him, one hand holding a cup of black coffee. He took it and gave his benefactor a half smile in gratitude.

John and Amanda had kept their relationship very low key since they'd begun seeing each other several months ago. Aside from the occasional lunch or beer with a group, they stayed friendly in public but not too friendly. He didn't know if it was this thing with Rodney, the wedding or just that they were in Vegas. Whatever the cause, he was thinking of doing something wildly out of character. Before he'd consciously made the decision, he set the coffee on the small metal table beside him and took Amanda in his arms. She stiffened momentarily then relaxed, hands on his chest resting her head on his shoulder. None of his friends seemed to notice though he couldn't have cared less. They needed comfort and knew each would provide it for the other.

Amanda pushed against his chest enough to get him to release her then sat beside Jennifer, taking her hand. Jennifer's dad, Rick, as he'd insisted on being called, had moved down to the end of the hall to make a few phone calls, one of which John presumed was to Jennifer's Great Aunt Francie and Great Uncle Howie who had been unable to make the trip. Rodney had offered to move the celebration to Wisconsin so they could attend, but the older couple insisted they continue with their plans, Francie promising to make a special dinner when they visited at Christmas.

The elevator at the end of the hall dinged and a woman stepped out. She had shoulder length brown hair, brown eyes and was wearing faded jeans, a white cotton top, her visitor's badge clipped to the neckline, and sneakers. Carrying a leather case in one hand, she immediately caught the attention of the group. She came to a stop, thrust one hip to the side and cast a glare into the air. "John Sheppard."

Everyone looked to John as their leader. He stepped forward, hand extended, meeting her glare with his best unreadable expression. "Colonel Sheppard."

She switched the case from one hand to the other and clasped his in a strong grip, her eyes slanted to the side taking in Daniel Jackson's intent stare through his glasses though he wisely kept quiet. "Marjorie Warlock. David sent me."

"You're the one they call…"

"The Wicked Witch? Yes."

"Thanks for coming." Woolsey came to John's side as he made introductions, grinning internally when Marjorie showed no fear when Ronon towered over her.

"Which one of you is the bad boy?" She addressed the group, but her eyes stayed on Ronon, a grin coming to her lips when Dusty glared at her from the Satedan's side.

"You're client's name is Dr. Rodney McKay. He's in lockup."

Woolsey took his glasses off to polish them with his handkerchief. "I'll be acting as your co-counsel."

Her expression twisted into irritation. "This is how I make my living. I don't _need_ help."

Evan spoke up for the first time, his voice soothing. "We didn't mean to imply that."

Woolsey replaced his glasses. "It's my job to report back to our superiors about your progress in defending Dr. McKay and I can best do that if the lead detectives in the case see me as more than just a friend of the accused."

Amanda came up on John's other side, just behind Jennifer who was now standing in front of Marjorie. "Please. You _have_ to help him."

~~O~~

The last drop of coffee dripped into the pot with a small plop as Araceli stripped off her gloves and pushed the faceguard up out of her way. She poured her fourth cup of the hot brew wearily taking a seat at the desk she shared with her assistants. A vibration at her elbow drew her attention to the cell phone resting there. The screen showed the name of her thirteen-year old son, Phillip. "Hi honey…sorry I wasn't there when you got home…just working late…There's microwave meals in the freezer…Eat, do your homework and in bed by ten at the latest…I mean it…Love you too."

A long sigh that was more like a groan was muffled by her hands over her face. Her phone vibrated again but she didn't bother to pick it up. Wasn't expected to. She knew who it was, what he wanted. The clock's digital display changed. Punctual as always. Many times she'd wished for him to make his call even one minute late. It would've proven that he and the people he worked for were at least human and prone to the same faults as the rest of the world. But they never were. Not once.

The call was a signal for her to step out of the room for a few minutes, so she obliged because the reason she continued to help them had just called to complain that he'd come home to an empty house again.

Taking off the faceguard, she left the coffee and went down the hall to the ladies room where she was to stay for at least twenty minutes. She didn't know what would happen during those twenty minutes and didn't much care as long as they left her family alone.

Araceli went into the last stall, locked the door and sat down, head resting in her hands, elbows on her knees and cried.

~~O~~

"Dr. Keller, that's why I'm here. Once I've met with the detectives assigned to the case then I'll have a better idea of how much bail the judge will set." Marjorie's brown eyes swept over the faces of the men and women gathered around. She hadn't seen such a diverse group in a long time. Meeting them separately, she'd never have known they were friends. "After you've all had a good night's sleep, I'll be meeting with each of you to get your version of what happened."

"Of course, Ms. Warlock." Woolsey gestured for her to lead the way down the hall toward the bullpen. "Shall we?"

She could feel Woolsey's displeasure at her state of dress. "Don't stand on ceremony, Richard. I don't offend easily or I wouldn't be in this profession."

"I just expected…"

"You expected me to arrive this late on a Saturday night wearing a power suit, hair and make-up perfect, three-inch heels and fully versed in the details of the case."

Woolsey smiled. "I apologize."

"No need. Tell me about my client."

His smile faded. "Dr. McKay is an unusual man."

Indicating the others, she gave him a wry smile. "Seems to be SOP with this group."

"Please don't be put off by his attitude. I assure you he is _not_ a coldblooded killer."

"So, if someone was to threaten a member of his family or one of his friends, a kill or be killed scenario, he'd just let that person die?"

"No, of course not. He is more than capable of defending himself and others. But first and foremost, he is not capable of _pre-meditated_ murder."

Her smile perked up. "That's good enough for me."

They arrived at the desk and a few moments later were seated across from Rodney.

Marjorie didn't waste any time with small talk. "Let's hear it, Dr. McKay. From the top."

"From the…" Rodney stared at her, confused.

She pretended to consult her notes though she didn't need them. Her eidetic memory made her the best criminal attorney in California. That she was also qualified to practice in Nevada made her even more in demand. "The deceased, Peter Kavanagh. Tell me about him."

Rodney glanced at Woolsey and received a nod. "I first met Kavanagh about six years ago when I hired him as part of my research team."

"What kind of research?"

Rodney exchanged a glance with Woolsey, who answered. "That's confidential, Ms. Warlock."

"Gentlemen, it is _never_ a good idea to lie to your attorney."

"We're not lying, Ms. Warlock. We are all a part of a multi-national syndicate of researchers. The work we do is exceedingly classified."

Her eyes bored into his as if gauging his sincerity. "I'll accept that explanation for the time being. But if it comes down to the fact that it was the classified nature of Dr. Kavanagh's work is what caused his death, I expect to be given full disclosure."

Again Woolsey and Rodney's eyes met. "We'll take that under advisement, Ms. Warlock."

**Arraignment Hearing**

**Las Vegas County Courthouse**

"Bail is set at one million dollars."

Woosley stood, buttoned his suit jacket and addressed the court. "Your Honor, may I address the court?"

"Yes, Mr. Woolsey."

"The United States government will gladly post Dr. McKay's bail."

The judge, a severe woman in her sixties with steel gray hair, nodded once. "See the clerk. Dr. McKay, you are not to venture outside the Las Vegas city limits until this is resolved."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And do not make me regret my decision."

"Uh, no, ma'am."

The gavel slammed. "Court is adjourned." She stood, as did the people assembled in the courtroom, and made her way out the side door.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marjorie saw Rodney glancing nervously over his shoulder, starting at every little sound. His apprehension disappeared when his wife touched him on the shoulder then threw herself into his arms and his family and friends clustered around the two of them.

Marjorie gathered up her belongings, shoving them into the leather case she carried everywhere. "We have a lot of work to do, gentlemen. Let's get to it." She led the way to the clerk where Woosley paid Rodney's bail.

~~O~~

In their hotel room, Rodney and Jennifer held onto each other as if the world were about to end. If they couldn't find out who really killed Kavanagh then it would be because they wouldn't be able to be together.

Easing Jennifer from his arms, Rodney led her over to sit on the side of the bed. This wasn't their original room as the CSI team still had theirs blocked off along with those of his known associates, who were not at all happy that they couldn't have access to their personal effects.

"They're never going to talk to me again," Rodney stated unequivocally as if doing so would make it true.

"How can you _say_ that? Nothing as minor as being accused of murder would make your friends turn their backs on you."

"Minor?" He got up and began pacing. "They hate me."

"They _love_ you, Rodney. We'll get through this together. All of us."

He let out a long sigh. "Yeah. I know. Jackson came to see me."

"So that's where he disappeared to. How did he get in? I'm your _wife_ and they wouldn't let me in."

Rodney shrugged and a rumbling noise came from his stomach making Jennifer smile. "Let's order room service."

He was saved from answering when someone knocked. With a puzzled frown, he looked out the peephole then opened the door. Ronon pushed the door wide as he entered without invitation followed by John, Amanda, Dusty, Evan, Teyla, Chuck and Amelia.

Ronon, John and Dusty were carrying pizza boxes. Amanda, Evan and Teyla carried six-packs of beer. Chuck and Amelia brought up the rear.

"What are all of you doing here? I thought…"

John put his hand up to stop the rant he knew was coming. "Well, _stop_ thinking. At least for now. Let's just have something to eat, drink a few beers and talk about something else."

Jennifer came to her husband's side. "That's a great idea, John. I'll call and have some chairs brought up."

"Already taken care of."

Someone knocked on the door again. Chuck, standing closest, opened it to let in a bellman push a cart in that had enough folding chairs for everyone.

Not knowing what else to say to the men and women that were his friends, Rodney asked, "Where's Jackson?"

John unfolded several chairs and set them near the tables. "He went back to the mountain. Probably to do some research, see what he can find out. Maybe do a little hacking. Rick, Jeannie, Kaleb and Madison went back to their rooms."

~~O~~

Though John easily made it seem random, he worked it so that Evan could sit next to the woman he had the hots for, giving them a chance to just be in each other's company and that of their friends without wondering if they were being watched. It was the least he could do for them under the circumstances.

After some debate, the group settled down to watch a movie, _Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen_. They cheered Sam and Mikaela, and booed the leader of the Decepticons. Even Ronon got into the spirit. By the time the food was gone and the credits were rolling, Rodney was so relaxed he could barely stay awake.

John herded the gang out of room, gave Jennifer a confident smile then closed the door as she urged Rodney to get into his pajamas. Or rather the ones they'd purchased in the boutique downstairs.

The Atlanteans had all been put on one floor, and when John neared the one he'd been given, he found Amanda waiting for him. He gave her a sad smile, opened his door and ushered her in. Once the door was closed, he took her in his arms and held her close. A few minutes later they lay together under the covers.

Just before he fell asleep, she nestled against his side, her hand on his chest, and he heard her softly whisper, "It'll be okay."

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Just a quick note to say our thoughts and prayers are with everyone from Colorado Springs and any other area in the Southwest affected by wildfires. ~lg & theicemenace

~~O~~

Colonel Cameron Mitchell didn't believe in love at first sight. He'd had too many years of pining for Amy Vandenberg, too many experiences through the Stargate, and too much time in the Air Force. But he wasn't immune to the appearance of the two women who just walked through Dr. Daniel Jackson's front door.

One was what he would term "cute." She had an oval face with sharp features, her light brown hair falling around her face in styled chaos. Based on Jackson's reaction to her, this was the elusive Rebekah that both General O'Neill and Vala had mentioned. But the other woman surprised him.

Jackson introduced the two women as Rebekah Jacobs and Marina Gonzales. Cameron stared at Marina, hiding his reaction to her as she smiled at O'Neill, said hello to Sam and Vala, and glanced warily at Teal'c. Then, she turned to him as Sam and Vala drew Rebekah into a conversation. Her dark hair fell to her shoulder blades, the curls bouncing as she moved. Her eyes were a surprising blue, something he'd not expected, and she gave him a saucy grin as if daring him to say something.

Never one to disappoint a lady, Cam jumped to his feet and stuck out his hand. "Cameron Mitchell."

She laughed as she shook it. "Marina. Sorry to crash your party."

He shrugged. "We're used to it." He glanced toward where Jackson was now sitting next to Rebekah while Vala and Sam dominated her attention. Lowering his voice, he leaned toward Marina. "Besides, based on what I'm seein', I'm glad you did crash the party. I don't think I've seen Jackson so. . . ."

"Smitten?"

"Good word." Cam motioned toward the kitchen, where he happened to know the drinks were kept. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure." She glanced toward his beer can. "I'll have one of those."

His eyebrows rose, surprised. Rebekah had asked for a soda, and Cam had somewhat expected Marina to do the same. He turned back to see the challenge in her eyes. "I'll be right back."

In the kitchen, he took a moment to shake his head as he grabbed Marina's drink. Based on the little bit he'd seen, this one could be a handful. He'd need to be careful around her, something that came naturally to him. But there was more to Marina, a dangerous mix of boldness and seduction. She knew exactly what she was doing when she introduced herself to him. Walking back to the living room, he found her watching Jackson and Rebekah, a slight smile on her face. _Okay, so maybe there's a bit of genuine friendship in there, too._

Pushing the thought away, he held out the can. "Here ya go."

"Thanks." Marina spared one more look at Jackson and his girlfriend before focusing her full attention on Cam. "So, Colonel Mitchell, tell me about yourself."

Cam grinned. Boy, was that a loaded invitation!

~~O~~

"Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's quiet voice broke the sudden silence in Daniel's house. Rebekah and Marina had just left, and everyone was full from the big meal. He turned to where the big Jaffa finally removed the cap he'd worn all afternoon. The tone of his voice indicated that something big had just happened.

Daniel glanced at Jack and saw that the general had picked up on the same thing. "Teal'c what's going on?"

Teal'c glanced out the window to where Rebekah and Marina pulled away from the curb. They'd spent the majority of the afternoon with SG-1, settling into new friendships that had Daniel wondering if he really could have something special with Rebekah. And he saw that Mitchell was a bit taken with Marina, as well. Now, however, he frowned. Teal'c wasn't given to hysterics or dramatic hesitations, so he must have been putting his thoughts in order.

Finally, the Jaffa faced the group. "I believe the house was watched for a short time this afternoon."

That sent a wave of alarm through the remaining individuals. Daniel tensed as Jack moved to the windows and began looking for signs of snipers. Sam and Vala sat up straighter, and Cam pushed to his feet to take up a position near yet another window. Daniel frowned at Teal'c. "You saw something?"

"Indeed." The Jaffa met his eyes. "Just after Rebekah Jacobs and Marina Gonzales arrived, a man I had noticed earlier in the day drove away. I believe he was watching the house until they arrived."

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Well, that could mean any number of things."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, like we have a problem."

"Jack, I trust Rebekah."

Mitchell frowned at him. "What about Marina?" When Daniel shrugged and waggled his head from side to side, the colonel went back to peering out the window. "This could be a problem."

"No kidding!" Vala pushed to her feet and stretched. "What do we do now?"

"Nothing." Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. "We don't know if it was Rebekah and Marina under surveillance or us."

Teal'c moved away from the window and headed for the kitchen. "We were, indeed, the ones under surveillance, Daniel Jackson. I am not yet certain why the person watching this house left when the two women arrived."

Sam, who had been listening to the men talk, looked from Daniel to Mitchell to Jack. "Guys, what's going on?"

Daniel glanced at Mitchell, seeing the colonel's nod of agreement. He walked over to the chair where Rebekah had last sat and perched on the edge of it. "Sam, there's a lot you need to know, and I would have told you before now."

"But?"

Daniel cringed visibly. "Rodney asked that we not say anything just yet."

"Rodney?" Sam blinked. "As in Rodney McKay?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

Mitchell interrupted when Daniel opened his mouth to answer. "Sam, he's up on murder charges."

"_Murder?_" Sam jumped to her feet. "You're telling me one of the most brilliant men I've ever worked with, one who, admittedly, gets on my last nerve but is really a good man, is being charged with _murder_? Who did he kill? Todd?"

"Peter Kavanagh."

"Kavanagh?" Sam's face turned fierce, her disdain for Kavanagh showing in the way she curled her lip. "That's just like him. Odds are good, he staged the entire thing."

Daniel stayed in his seat, keeping his voice calm. "It wasn't staged, Sam. We've seen the preliminary DNA report and the crime scene photos."

"And you think McKay did it?"

"No." Daniel shook his head. "The evidence the police have was enough for them to arrest him and charge him with murder, but we've found a few inconsistencies that might clear his name. We're working on it, but it's taking time."

"So, he's in jail?"

"No, he's in Las Vegas." Mitchell put a hand on her arm. "The SGC put up his bail—through a mediator, of course—and he's sticking to the agreement. Sheppard and his team are working with Las Vegas police, but we're covering the more. . .alien aspects of the investigation."

"You think aliens are involved?"

Daniel shook his head. "No. Actually, we're not sure who is involved. I get the feeling there's more going on here than we realize."

"How so?" The question came from Mitchell.

"I'm not sure yet." Daniel sat back in his seat as Sam returned to her spot. She'd been given a puzzle, and he was confident she wouldn't rush out the door while discussing it. "But knowing the house was being watched makes me think we're on the right track."

"But you don't have any evidence yet?"

"No."

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, tell me what you have. And _don't_ leave anything out!"

~~O~~

By Friday evening, Daniel was almost relieved to slip away from the SGC. He'd spent hours there this week, both with Sam as she worked on getting the _George Hammond_ fully stocked and ready to go and with Mitchell and Teal'c as they tried to dissect the information they'd received from Las Vegas. So far, nothing added up. The evidence pointed to McKay as the murderer, but the SGC knew better. In the years that McKay had worked for them, he had never once displayed any of the warning signs that he could even think about murder. Daniel knew that wasn't a prerequisite, however, as he had often been influenced negatively through various alien means.

He managed to call Rebekah twice during the week between the team barbeque at his house and Thursday evening. Both times, he'd slipped away from his work with a cup of coffee, took his cell phone into an unused office, and shut the door. During the calls, he sat in the dusty chair and stared at the empty desk, enjoying the sound of her voice telling him mundane things about her day. Those calls reinforced what he knew about his relationship with her. He wanted more, a lot more, but he also needed her to understand what sort of history he had. Not many women fully understood how strongly he'd been affected by Sha're and her death, and his classified job made it difficult to be completely open. By Friday night, he had managed to come up with what he hoped was a convincing and realistic cover for Sha're and her culture. Landry and Mitchell agreed, all of them willing to go with him on this. He hated lying to Rebekah, but she was a civilian. He'd have to get over it if he wanted to ever have a relationship with her.

But would she understand? Working at the bank like she did, she understood the need to keep things confidential. But comparing the two didn't work. Daniel went through the Stargate to alien planets where bad guys tried to kill him on a regular basis. Rebekah just dealt with irate customers over the phone. Now, she didn't even do that, just listening in to make certain all calls were handled appropriately.

Shoving these thoughts from his mind, Daniel yanked open the door to the coffee shop, blinking at the chaos inside. He hadn't made it to Rebekah's writing clinic the night before, and part of him had missed that. One of his calls to her had been just prior to a quick visit to the Land of Light. Keret had remembered some information on Ba'al's empire, and he wanted to tell SG-1. Daniel had been given enough notice to spend twenty minutes chatting with Rebekah and setting up tonight's meeting. They'd agreed to meet here.

She waved to him, her face tense as a group at a nearby table burst into laughter. Daniel wove through the crowd and, when he reached her table, leaned close enough to speak without shouting. "Uh. . .would a walk be better for tonight?"

"Yes, please!" She quickly gathered her purse. Together, they made their way to the counter and ordered drinks. When he frowned at her, she shook her head. "Long day, late lunch. I'm nowhere near hungry right now."

"I understand that." Handing the money to the girl behind the register, Daniel studied Rebekah. Tonight, her hair was less styled than it was the day of the barbeque. She'd left it loose, though, and the fly-away ends did nothing to change her pixie-like appearance. She wore a tailored pink blouse with white stripes, a pair of jeans, and silver hoop earrings. When she reached for the drink she'd ordered, he noticed the watch on her right arm. The "band" had large black stones linked together like a bracelet, and she also wore three other bracelets and a black hair tie on the same wrist. It added to her appearance and only made Daniel realize how much he actually liked her. Most people wouldn't expect them to be together, and he liked the differences between her and Sha're.

Leaving the crowded coffee shop behind, Daniel pointed to the park across the street and fell into step with Rebekah. His thoughts about Sha're had intruded more often during the week, primarily as he made the decision that he really did want to pursue something romantic with Rebekah. He needed her to know that he wasn't holding her to the same expectations that he had had with Sha're. His wife was from a completely alien culture, and it would be unfair to Rebekah to expect the same type of relationship from her.

In the park, they strolled and sipped their coffee, neither one willing to break the silence. Daniel liked that about Rebekah. She could be with him and not fill the silence even though he knew she loved to talk. Glancing at her, he drew in a deep breath. "So," he began, "how was the week?"

"Long." She rolled her eyes and then smirked. "I got carded today."

Daniel grinned at her. "Really?"

"Yep. Went to get some cold medication for Marina." She returned the grin. "The pharmacy where I go is one I've used for years, but they have this new guy on the register now. He's a good ten years younger than me and he asked for my ID. He made this big deal about my age. Said there was no way I was in my mid-thirties." She paused for effect. "Then, he asked me out."

Daniel snickered. "And you said. . .?"

She gave him a shy glance. "That I'm already seeing someone."

He turned to stare at her, catching her gaze and holding it. "Good." The mood seemed to shift, becoming more personal and reminding Daniel of their conversation in the kitchen of his home. "Rebekah. . . ."

"Daniel. . . ." She stopped walking, licking her lips nervously when they spoke at the same time. "Sorry. Go ahead."

He looked around and spotted a bench right under a streetlight. The sun had barely begun to set, the summer giving them a perfect evening. Children played nearby, their laughter punctuating the warm air and making it seem normal to be here. Leading Rebekah to the bench, he faced her, thankful the sun was behind them and not in their faces. The light caught on the highlights in her hair and framed her face in a way that was utterly captivating. Setting his coffee cup on his knee, he propped his other elbow on the back of the bench. "Look, there are some things about me that you should probably know."

She blinked a couple times, her expression cycling through anxious to worried to confused. "Such as. . .?"

"Uh. . .such as I can't tell you everything about me." He looked back up, meeting her eyes. "My work for the military is classified, and there're a lot of times I'll have to slip away without much warning. Some things will be able to be shared without much context. But. . . ."

"Daniel, you already told me this before."

"No, I didn't." He reached out and touched her hand. "You know I travel a lot for work, but my job can be dangerous. Very dangerous. And what we have is very important to me. But I want you to understand there's a part of myself that I can't share with you, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to share it."

"Is it any different than a lot of military guys who do Black Ops?"

"There's a reason a lot of those guys are either single or divorced." He shook his head. "Rebekah, I care for you. A lot. But I don't want to start something that is based on unrealistic expectations. We need to be fully aware that things can get tough for me, and I still won't be able to tell you how I was injured or why. And there may be times when I'm away without explanation for a considerable length of time. Most relationships I've known haven't been able to handle that, and I don't want to start something with you that ends with both of us hurt and angry because we weren't fully aware of the possibilities."

She sat for a long moment, her expression guarded as she thought about what he'd said. Finally, she nodded. "I think I understand. I mean, I have things at work that I can't talk about, but the biggest danger in my job is having someone chew me out over the phone. I honestly don't know how I'll react if you wind up with a bullet wound or some such thing."

He smiled at the honesty in her voice. "So, does that mean we keep things as friends?"

"Oh, God, I hope not!" Her eyes widened. "Sorry. That kind of slipped out before I really thought about it, and. . . ."

He laughed. "Rebekah, it's okay." He squeezed her hand. "I'd prefer you to be honest with me. I'm kind of used to it, for the most part."

"I think Marina's wearing off on me," she said, her tone mortified. "She's been pushing me about what's going on between us, trying to get me to see that there's more here than I've admitted. It's been. . .frustrating. To say the least."

Daniel nodded. "I have Jack, so I understand."

"An Air Force general is trying to get you to ask me out?" Rebekah's skepticism was obvious.

"Well, there's also Vala and Sam, too. Jack just climbed on the bandwagon."

"I liked Vala and Sam." She shrugged. "They seem like good friends."

"They're the best." He smiled again, the tension between them still present but not as obvious. "I've only known Vala for a few years, but Sam and I go back twelve years. Murray, too. Jack. . .Jack and I go even farther back. Before my current job."

"Are they part of this military organization you work with?" When he nodded, she looked at her coffee cup. "Then they understand what you're going through."

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Daniel shrugged. "Well, they've all had relationships that failed, but only Murray really understands. . . ." His voice trailed off. He didn't want to lose what little common ground they'd shared for the past few moments.

This time, Rebekah reached out and took his hand. "Daniel?"

He let out a deep breath. Talking about Sha're was never easy, but hadn't expected it to be this tough. "Um. . .I was going to say that only Murray really understands some of the stuff I've gone through." When Rebekah stayed quiet, apparently giving him the time he needed, he turned his hand so that he could lace their fingers together. Finally, he sighed deeply. "Rebekah, you're not the first person I've been in a relationship with."

She frowned. "I didn't think I was."

"Yeah, but what I mean is. . . ." He met her eyes. "I was married once."

She lifted her chin as if nodding. "_Was_ married? As in, divorced?"

"As in, she died." He held her gaze. "Nine years ago, she was killed in front of me."

Rebekah's hand tightened on his, the impact of his words affecting her deeply. She blinked a few times, almost as if trying to clear her eyes of tears. "Daniel, I'm so sorry!"

He nodded. "Sha're was. . . ." He shrugged. "She was my world. We met on a remote archaeological dig, and I lived with her people for a year. While I had my work, she's what made it worth it."

"Can I. . . ." Rebekah cleared her throat. "Can I ask what happened?"

He thought about the cover story he'd come up with, how he'd warned Rebekah about his work, and how she had accepted his explanation. Did he want to cross that line with her? If he didn't, he suspected she wouldn't fully understand what a huge step this was for him. "Yeah." He offered her a smile. "You have a right to know."

~~O~~

Rebekah stared at Daniel, seeing the tension on his face that was born of years of sorrow. Even now, he held her hand tightly as he wrestled with his emotions. "Daniel, if you don't want to talk about it, say so. I won't mind."

He frowned. "It's just. . . .Everyone I know already knows the story, so I don't have to get into it often. I did a couple years back with Vala, but we were working at the time. This. . .this is different."

"Because it's me you're talking to?"

"Yeah."

Rebekah waited. This side of Daniel was one that she had never seen, and she wasn't certain she could handle it. He apparently still loved his wife, even if she'd been gone for nearly a decade. In her experience, men who held on to love like that typically didn't get involved in relationships that they hadn't fully considered. That made her blink as she realized what it meant for her. _Daniel cares enough about me to tell me about his late wife?_ The power of that realization made her want to simultaneously hug him and run for the hills. She knew herself, her shortcomings, and her hopes. She couldn't even pretend to hold up to what he obviously remembered about his wife!

Before she could say anything, Daniel pulled his hand from hers and braced his elbows on his knees. "Sha're was from a traditional desert family," he said softly. He stared at his hands, lacing his fingers together as he spoke. "By that, I mean they were Bedouins, for lack of a better term. I met her father when I arrived at the archaeological dig along with Jack and a few others. I didn't know much at the time, and Sha're was given to me." He smiled, firmly entrenched in his memories. "There were a few misunderstandings then, but I fell for her. When the others came back to the States, I stayed behind. I lived with Sha're and her people for a year.

"Then, she was kidnapped." His smile faded. "A rival warlord took her to be his 'queen.' He basically brainwashed her, and she actually tried to kill me when I came to rescue her. Jack was there, too. That's when I joined the outfit I'm with now. I looked for her for over two years, but. . . ." He shook his head. "She was trying to kill me, and T—Murray had to act. It took a long time to get over that, but. . . ."

Rebekah put a hand on his shoulder, trying to tell him that she was there and supported him without breaking the silence. The grief in his eyes was intense, but he never broke. She suspected that, like many of her past experiences, this pain was so old and familiar that it had lost its sharpness. "Thank you for telling me."

He nodded and glanced at her. "Sorry to change the mood."

She shrugged. "I think I understand why you told me." She took his now-cold coffee and carried it to a nearby trash can, dumping hers along with it. When she returned to the bench, she let out a deep breath. During those few moments, her mind raced. Her past had constantly come up during the week, telling her that this thing she shared with Daniel couldn't last. He'd want her to be perfect, to do everything right. She had almost decided to call off their weekly meetings because of that, but something deeper kept her from making that decision. She didn't just like Daniel, not as a friend. They'd connected, and he made her happy in a way that she'd never been happy. No matter how much she protested to Marina, she knew that she was falling for him.

And, now, he'd opened his heart and let her see one of the greatest hurts in his life. Turning back to the bench as the sunlight faded to twilight, Rebekah studied Daniel. He still had his elbows propped on his knees, and his eyes stared at nothing as he worked to put his past emotions into perspective. Could he love her the way he loved his late wife? Was it possible that, with just a little bit of work, she could share the same kind of relationship with him that he'd once shared with Sha're?

The hope that she suddenly felt twisted her stomach and surprised her with its strength. She wanted that, so deeply that the thought of never having it actually hurt. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she rejoined him on the bench. "Daniel, you're not the only one who was married."

He straightened and turned to her. His eyes moved over her face, their concern making them almost unreadable. "You were married, too?"

"Yeah, but things didn't go like with you and Sha're." She shrugged and chuckled. "I kind of. . .I quit."

He frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

She faced him. "I divorced him after five years." The bitterness in her voice was old, but it still cut. "I couldn't be everything he wanted, so I left."

The frown on his face deepened. He reached out and took her hand, his thumb moving across her knuckles. "What happened?"

She licked her lips, her stomach twisting again and making her glad lunch had been hours ago. "Uh. . .he didn't like who I was." She stared at their hands. "His name was Brody. We got married just after graduating high school, and it was really sudden. My parents weren't happy, but they tried to help. Thing is, he expected absolute perfection. I was working with my dad at his roadside assistance company, and Brody didn't think that was good enough for him. He insisted that I get another job, a professional job. I managed to get on with an attorney's office, and that helped a lot. Every day, I went to work in a business suit and looked the part.

"Then, he bought a house." She laughed, the story flowing out of her as if she'd never told anyone else before. "I didn't know he'd done it, and it was out of our price range. I came home one day, and he took me there. I was _furious_! We fought that night—not the first time we'd done that—but it was the first time he told me that he'd 'settled' for me because the woman he really wanted had married someone else. I just reminded him of her."

Beside her, Daniel winced.

"Yeah." She shook her head. "I left after that, spent the night just driving around and trying to figure out what I was going to do. I loved him, though. In a sick and twisted way, I really thought we could work it out. So, I went back. I played the part of the good little wife, looked professional, kept the house perfect, did all that he wanted."

"But. . .?"

"It wasn't enough." Rebekah sighed. "Brody had been stepping out on me, and I knew it. Not the entire time we were married, just the last six months or so. I never found out if it was the woman he really wanted or someone else. But I stayed because he was all I really knew. By this time, I barely spoke to my parents. My dad couldn't stand Brody, and I just wanted to keep the peace."

"What changed?"

"I don't really know." She frowned. "I'd been writing for a long time, mainly as a way to keep my mind occupied when I knew he was with _her_. But, one night, he came home really late from another 'business meeting,' and I was up writing. He didn't know I'd been writing and had told me I didn't need to waste my time with it. We had this huge argument, and I just. . . .I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. He never really hit me, but I just got to the point that I wasn't me. I was this person who was afraid to even be herself. I guess it was when he threw a thick ceramic plate at me. I'd been writing before eating dinner, and I left it on the table to finish up a scene, intending to wash it before he came home. But, in that argument, he threw it at me. The next day, I filed for divorce."

Daniel stayed quiet for several long moments. Rebekah stared at their hands, surprised that he hadn't pulled away once during her story. It wasn't as heartbreaking as his experiences, but it had affected how she viewed herself. Brody had expected her to be the trophy wife, and she hadn't been able to do so. What would Daniel expect?

"For the record, he's a. . .jerk." Daniel's quiet statement, as well as the slight hesitation that told her he'd changed what he wanted to say, made her chuckle. She blinked, surprised at the tears in her eyes brought on by that simple statement. A moment later, Daniel reached out and gently turned her face toward him. His eyes were just as intense as they were moments ago, and the softness she'd seen in them when he'd talked about Sha're was now turned toward her. He kept his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that started to escape. "I mean it."

Rebekah smiled. "I know." His statement about Brody felt good, almost like a vindication of her character.

Daniel slowly pulled his hand away from her face, and she had the irrational urge to cling to it. Her face felt cold, and she hoped it didn't show in her eyes. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hand, something he'd never released, and stood. Pulling her to her feet, he smiled. "Maybe we should go get something to eat."

"Yeah, probably a good idea." Rebekah didn't think she could eat much, her stomach still turning from the emotions swirling through her, but she wasn't about to go home just yet. The memories were too close to the surface, and she wanted to have something good to look back on for this night instead of the heavy-hearted confessions she and Daniel had made to one another.

He turned toward the coffee shop, changing his grip on her hand so that their fingers were laced together as they walked. With his other hand in his pocket, he stared at the ground. "So, how long ago was that?"

"Ten years." Rebekah glanced up at him. "I haven't dated all that much since then."

He chuckled, but she saw the sadness creeping onto his face. "We're a matched pair, then."

"Is that so bad?"

He turned to her, surprised at her question. A smile tugged at his lips. "Probably not." A deep breath later, he pulled her along with him. "Come on. I'll take you to dinner and then drive you back to your car. We can talk about more serious stuff another time."

Rebekah grinned. "Sounds great." And it did.

Neither of them saw the figure in the shadows, watching them. The woman turned and faded into the night, her mind whirling as she tried to figure out the next step in her plan.

~TBC


	10. Chapter 9

**Illusions**

**Chapter Nine**

He slipped into the bar, ordered a beer, tipped the bartender a half buck on the two buck purchase, and carried the bottle over to watch the blue-haired ladies play the slots. It didn't matter which casino or who owned it. The clientele was pretty much the same everywhere you went on the strip. The difference here was who owned this one. Not that _he_ cared one way or the other, but his bosses cared.

If he was seen, his appearance guaranteed he wouldn't be remembered. He was average height, average weight, average looks and though he could afford to dress well above it, he dressed average as well. The better to go unnoticed.

The air of boredom that surrounded him was something he'd put on one day many years ago and never took off again. It was a way of keeping his bosses from knowing what he was thinking though he didn't care. What was _was_ and only death would change it. Blackmail, conspiracy, treason, fraud, hacking, what some called collection, and using someone as an example of what might happen to others if they didn't toe the line. He'd put his share of people in the ground, but you did what you had to in order to get by and if you actually enjoyed your work, well that was a perk. And he did love his job.

His phone signaled an incoming call. Rolling his eyes at the caller ID, he hit the answer key. "Yeah…all taken care of…" he snorted, "…after all these years, you don't trust me?" He leaned against the wall and took a sip of his beer. "She won't talk. Worries about that boy and her mama in Mexico. Doesn't want them to know about the things she's capable of doing to keep her secrets from getting out…Yeah…dropped the thumb drive in the incinerator out back of Las Vegas General…I heard they let McKay out on bail…not surprised that Woolsey and the rest of them are still hanging around. They got pretty tight working together these last couple of years. Wouldn't put it past them to band together. Hell, they might even _lie_ to save one of their own." He laughed nastily. "I've planned and executed so many of these ops I've lost count. This plan is foolproof." His eyes landed on a familiar face in the crowd. "Gotta go. A couple of the birds are leaving the cage."

The phone was shoved back into his breast pocket. He downed the rest of his beer and grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bar as he followed his quarry out the front door.

~~O~~

John, Evan and Rodney knocked on Woolsey's door and were admitted to find Marjorie already there again sans power suit, a cup of coffee and a pastry in front of her. The scents of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, pastries and coffee drew the men to the food as if they hadn't eaten in days. They filled their plates then joined Woosley and Marjorie at the table. Papers and folders were spread out in front of them as if someone had been rifling through them over and over.

Marjorie handed John the autopsy report. "We could have gotten all of this on thumb drives but I prefer something I can hold in my hand.

"You do have the thumb drives, right?"

"Yes, I do." She pushed several of the portable media devices across the table not missing when John shoved them in his jacket pocket. "And I hope you don't have sissy stomachs. What was done to the deceased is _not_ a pretty picture."

Slanting his eyes at John then back to his plate, Evan's small smile matched his CO's. "No problem, ma'am. We've seen a few things in our day." Evan flipped through the pages, what there were of them. "DNA confirms that it _was_ Kavanagh. COD-he was injected with a _massive_ dose of insulin. He experienced convulsions, fell or was pushed, and was dead before he landed where he was found. His back was broken in three places; at the C-3, C-4 and T-2. His head hit the metal rail giving him skull fracture that was so severe, a piece of his skull was pushed into his frontal lobe just above the right orbital socket. The left femur was broken twice and the tibia once. Three ribs weren't just broken. They were shattered. One punctured a lung and another lacerated his liver. He was dead within minutes. Multiple contusions and lacerations. Official COD is the overdose."

Around a bite of eggs and toast, John commented, "Sounds painful. Couldn't happen to a better guy."

"Get that out of your system now, Colonel. I don't want comments like that coming out of your mouth on the stand. The same goes for the rest of you." Marjorie pined each of the men with a glare.

Rodney spoke up for the first time. "On the stand? I didn't kill him and we need to prove that _before_ it gets to trial. Besides, I can't spend months away from work."

"None of us can, Rodney. We _all_ have responsibilities."

"Try to relax, Dr. McKay. You're innocent and I intend to prove it."

"We," Evan and John said together.

"Of course. We." The attorney took a bite of her pastry, washed it down with coffee then handed John a file. "Here's the tox screen."

"Aside from the insulin, he was clean. Not even aspirin." The folder slapped against the table when John tossed it on the pile then rubbed his eyes and yawned.

A short bark of laughter came from Rodney. "He was never sick even once as long as we worked together."

"He was also a pain in the _ass_ the entire time he was there."

Opening a padded envelope, Marjorie pulled out a DVD. "Here's a copy of the video surveillance from that day. It a compilation from the cameras in the stairwell. Kavanagh enters at the twelfth floor and just as he reaches the landing between five and four, the transmission cuts out. It comes back on fifteen minutes later and he's on the second floor dead. The thing is security didn't notice anything wrong. When they traced the signal during the missing period, they found that a signal originating outside the hotel had fed into their system replacing the live feed with a recording loop that showed the stairwell as empty."

"And because Dr. McKay has the expertise to have performed that sort of operation, it's another point in favor of him being guilty." Woolsey removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

John took his and Marjorie's cups, refilled them and returned to the table. "What about trace evidence?"

The attorney sighed in exasperation as she handed over the next file. "Right here. Trouble is…"

"There's too much of it."

"Exactly. Everyone and his dog have been in that stairwell. They seldom clean them so there's no telling how old some of the trace is unless its leads us to person or persons of interest. Then all we need to do is check the hotel's records of who was here when. But as you can see, there's not much to go on. Not to mention it's going to take weeks to comb through it all."

"Witness reports?"

"Now there is where I'm running into a problem. I've got names and their statements. When I asked for the original audio recordings of the transcripts, I was given the runaround."

Clearing his throat to get their attention, Woolsey picked up his coffee cup. "I'll have a word with the chief of police."

Taking notice of how casually Woolsey dropped the name of the first Asian police chief in the history of Las Vegas, Marjorie sat up straighter. "You know Frank Wong?"

"We used to work together and he owes me a favor or two. I'll see what I can do."

Rubbing the back of his head, John crossed one leg over the other. "Tell me about the CSI team. How good are they? Could the evidence have been mishandled?"

Before he'd even finished speaking, Marjorie was shaking her head. "Dr. Russell and Senior CSI Willows are tops in their field."

"What about the ME?"

"Personally recruited for the job by Gil Grissom a few months before he left. Hired her away from the Miami Dade ME's office."

Evan got up to put his empty plate on the end of the credenza with the others and poured another cup of coffee. "We should look into Kavanagh's finances. See if he was into something that could've gotten him killed."

"He was." Rodney got to his feet and went to look out the window.

"You _knew_ and didn't say anything? Rodney!" Reining in his anger, John waited for his friend to continue.

"Start from the beginning, please." Marjorie took out a digital recorder, a pad and pen.

Going back to his seat, Rodney rested his elbows on his knees. "The night Jennifer and I came here for my birthday, I saw him in the casino. Kavanagh may be the most insufferable…uh, he was playing the dollar slots, moving randomly from one machine to another. Well, it would've been random to anyone but me and maybe Zelenka. Oh and Chuck."

"Chuck knows?" John wasn't happy about that at all.

"Yeah. He figured it out the night I hit Kavanagh for insulting Jennifer."

"Figured out what, doc?"

"Kavanagh was fleecing the casinos. A little here, a little there and it adds up. And if I had to guess, I'd say he's got a couple of friends. Three, maybe four."

"So who's he working for?"

Rodney shrugged. "No idea."

"I can help with that." Another folder was passed to John, this time by Woolsey. "Our contacts found several offshore accounts. He has just over six million dollars gaining a massive amount of interest as we speak."

"The most recent deposit was made the day before he died," John pointed out.

Leaning on the credenza, Evan crossed his arms and sighed. "That's a _nice_ chunk of change."

John picked up where Woosley was going with his train of thought. "There's a per transaction limit of ten thousand before being reported to the FATF - Financial Action Task Force. He makes numerous transactions that come in just under so he doesn't raise any red flags. Then he goes in once the funds clear and moves it all offshore. Last I heard there was no limit on transferring funds out of the country."

"And you know this _how_, Sheppard?" Rodney went back for seconds on the food.

Relaxing back in his chair, John let a smirk climb over his face. "My father perfected the offshore shuffle. It's called structuring or smurfing." He saw the look in Woolsey's and Marjorie's eyes, cleared his throat uneasily and sat up. "But you didn't hear that from me."

They were interrupted by a beep. Woolsey picked up his phone, glanced at the screen then set it back on the table. "That message was from our resource. Someone just made another series of deposits. The total in the offshore accounts has just passed seven million."

"What's he planning on doing with all that money?"

"The answer to that is quite simple. He was released from his contract with our employers after his most recent…indiscretion. As I hear it, he's unemployable in the private sector. He has no family and few friends from whom he could borrow now that his savings are depleted. Perhaps this is the only way he could see to make a living."

Smiling for the first time, Rodney poured himself another cup of coffee. "I'm not surprised."

Marjorie got up to pace, alternately rubbing her lower back, shoulders and neck. "One of our problems is that we don't get the info until well after the police do. If there was a way…"

She was startled when John vaulted out of his chair motioning for Woolsey to follow. They had a short whispered conversation at the door.

"I'm going for a walk." The door slammed behind John.

"Was it something I said?" Marjorie's tone held amusement rather than annoyance.

A secretive smile came over Woolsey's lined face, mirrored by Evan. "Of course not, Ms. Warlock. He's going to pursue his own line of investigation."

"He needs to stay out of it or…"

"I assure you that Colonel Sheppard is the soul of discretion."

"Let's hope so."

~~O~~

Boredom drove Ronon from his room and down to the lobby. He was dressed just as he always was though he drew little attention aside from the occasional come-hither glance from women of all ages. He was tempted to tell them he was taken, but from the looks on their faces, it wouldn't have mattered.

Catching sight of his reflection in the glass door, he turned his head side to side coming to a long overdue decision. His next stop was the salon and he was seated at the washing station, the young lady oohing and ahing over his dreads.

The hair washer escorted him to the cutting station where an older woman with a matronly figure awaited him. She had white hair and smiled constantly. "Name's Margaret, but you can call me Maggie. What can I do for ya, honey? Trim? Highlights? Styling?"

"Cut them off."

"Really? You wanna be _bald?_" Maggie rubbed his head with the towel, tossed it aside then laid a dry one over his lap so she could run her fingers through his hair.

"No. Leave a couple of inches, but cut off the rest."

"You're the boss." She took out a pair of scissors, snipping the air a few times as she lifted one of the dreads, cut it off and placed it carefully on the dry towel. "Ya know honey, (snip) I volunteer at a place that makes wigs for people (snip) who've lost their hair to cancer or disease. (snip) If you were to donate your hair, we could make at least (snip, snip) two wigs for women or four for men (snip) with what you're discarding today (snip)."

He didn't have to think it over because the answer was obvious. "Take it."

In the mirror, he saw her smile widen. "That's wonderful, honey. What's your name? People should know about your generosity."

Ronon started to give his name then hesitated. "McKay. Rodney and Jennifer McKay."

"Well that's just fine. Now let's make you beautiful for that girl of yours."

His eyebrows came together over his nose. "Girl?"

"A handsome man like you has to have someone special in his life. You're not wearin' a ring so I'm guessin' you got a girl." He shrugged conceding the point. "What's her name?"

"Dusty."

"She pretty?"

A snort came out before he could stop it. "Yeah."

"If I had to guess, I'd say looks don't matter one little bit to a man like you." Maggie tapped her chest over her heart. "You're the kind that looks for something in here."

Maggie was right. That Dusty was attractive didn't matter to him. He liked the Marine for who she was. The stylist dropped her brush, comb and scissors into the cleansing solution then took a large zipper bag from the cabinet to her left. She shook it open then carefully placed the severed dreads inside and sealed the closure. Using a permanent marker, she wrote "Rodney and Jennifer McKay" across the front.

He turned his head side to side liking what he saw. The shorter style suited him. "Thanks."

She gave him an affectionate smile, removed the cape then brushed a few stray hairs from the front of his shirt. "You're welcome, honey. Now go show off your new look to that girl of yours."

He signed at the register and returned to their floor just as John came into the hall. "What's up?"

"What the…you cut your hair." With a shrug, Ronon waited for his friend to continue. "We were just going over the police reports, crime scene photos and financial reports with Woolsey and that lawyer trying to get a handle on who might have done this and framed Rodney."

"Isn't everything they got, um…"

"Circumstantial. He went off the grid during the time of the murder, had not one but _two_ arguments with the deceased and even threatened to kill him."

John headed for the elevator and Ronon followed. "Where we going?"

The doors opened, both men stepped inside and John hit the button for the lobby. "To check out the scene of the crime. But we have to make a stop first."

"Where?"

"I wanna pick up some specialized equipment and the personnel to run it." They went to the parking garage, found their rental and headed out. "Campbell and Banks are staying at the Motor Inn on Verde. We'll swing by and pick 'em up."

Ronon snorted. "We should leave 'em alone."

"Why?"

A big hand drew John to a stop. "They just got married."

The look of surprise on John's face would've been comical under less serious conditions. "What? Why didn't they _say_ something?" His phone rang and a quick glance told him it was Chuck. "Crap! He's on the phone. Hey, Sarge…No, we've got it covered…Oh, right. I understand…Sure. We'll pick you up in twenty minutes." The phone was returned to his pocket.

"Now what?"

"Get the equipment and get to the crime scene." John pulled up in front of room twelve of the Motor Inn and got out just as Amelia opened the door. "You should've told us you'd just gotten married. We could've kept the two of you out of this."

Chuck smiled and ducked his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, Colonel, but we _want_ to help. There's plenty of time for honeymooning later."

~~O~~

"****!" The obscenity burst out of his mouth as he searched for the SUV he'd been following. He took out his phone and jabbed the speed dial. "It's me. I lost 'em…No, they couldn't have known I was following them…They were headed east on Marseilles…no idea. That would be why I was _following_ them…What's up with the eyes on Mitchell, O'Neill, Jackson, and that woman? What's her name? Rebekah something…Jacobs…I see…got it… I'll be there in a few." He tossed the phone in the passenger seat, signaled for a turn and headed for the safe house.

~~O~~

Leaving Ronon in the SUV, John went inside and Amelia closed the door. "Thanks to both of you. We need to go over the crime scene in more detail. I figure you two would know what we need to do that."

"No problem, sir." Chuck took out his radio, called the _Daedalus_ and a few minutes later they had everything they needed. Using a duffle bag, they carried everything to the SUV and soon they were on their way. To avoid the inevitable encounters with the media, the group had moved to another hotel. However, the situation decreed that they take the risk of being seen and photographs ending up online or in the papers and making their way back to the police.

When they reached the hotel, Ronon automatically steered them toward a side entrance. They came out near the stairwell though to their chagrin there was a steady stream of people going in and out. Some people were fascinated by violent death, an attraction John never understood, especially as a warrior.

"There goes our crime scene," Amelia commented with dismay.

Ronon tilted his head side to side cracking his neck. "I'll handle it." Going to the stairwell, he went inside and the door closed again. A few moments later, a group of people made up of all age groups flooded out, going in all directions while glancing over their shoulders as if they were being chased. He stuck his head out and aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "All clear."

The four friends filed into the stale smelling enclosure. While John connected a tamper-resistant lock to the lobby door, Chuck and Amelia headed up the stairs to do the same on all the other doors. John and Ronon climbed to the seventh floor landing as Chuck and Amelia joined them.

Chuck took out one of the computers, tapped the screen to lock the doors. "Ready, Colonel."

Amelia had a second computer out. "Kavanagh's medical records state he was six feet even and weighed in at one seventy-five. Average for his age and height. The usual childhood diseases. A mild case of hypoglycemia, acid reflux and lactose intolerance. Only the first part is helpful for our purposes."

"The report says that his assailant was between five-nine and five-eleven, and right-handed." Holding his right hand in the air, John made a fist. "The attacker used a high tech version of a jet injector. He or she also wore gloves and left no trace behind, which is very, very difficult. The person had to have specialized knowledge in order to accomplish it."

John picked up from Amelia. "Yeah. We're always loosing skin cells, sweat, fibers." He looked at Ronon and his new 'do. "Hair, other particulates picked up from places we've been, people we've touched, things we've stepped in or on and so forth."

Ronon couldn't help staring. "Excuse me?"

With an embarrassed shake of his head, John grinned sheepishly. "I've see a few episodes of CSI Miami. You can't help picking up some of this stuff."

"Of course, sir." Chuck wisely hid a grin behind his computer. "According to the report, there's so much trace that they couldn't use it to prove Dr. McKay had been in here. By the same token, they couldn't prove he hadn't. And if anyone could get in and out without leaving evidence, it's McKay."

"I don't know, sir. Dr. McKay's not exactly subtle. Pretty much anything he's thinking or feeling is right out there and he doesn't usually spare other people's feelings." Amelia put in.

"True. Though he's gotten better since he and Keller finally admitted they were in love."

Chuck chuckled. "You got me there, Colonel. So, how is this going to go?"

While they talked, the group climbed to the seventh floor landing. "We're gonna start with getting a feel for what happened. Um, how tall are you, Sarge?"

Ronon could see Chuck had figured out where John was headed and didn't like it. "Five ten."

"There's approximately two inches in height difference between Kavanagh and his assailant. Now I'm six so I'll be Kavanagh and you be the attacker." Handing his computer to Amelia, Chuck got into place. "The injection site was on the right side of the neck just below the ear." John stood with his back to the gate tech as he placed his finger against John's neck to simulate the injector. "So Kavanagh gets injected. He stumbles down to the sixth floor…" John did so, "…where the convulsions start. He falls or is pushed, hits his head on the rail here, continues to fall and ends up here."

They stopped, John taking out what looked like a flashlight and crouching next to the blood stains fluoresced by the UV light. An attempt had been made to clean it up as evidenced by the smears, though most bodily fluids would show up for years to come.

"So what have we proven?" Amelia's question was valid.

"Just that Kavanagh was killed here and it could've been anyone, including McKay." John paced back and forth rubbing the back of his head.

Chuck looked up at the starting point then back to the finish line. "I have an idea." Without waiting for the order, he moved back up to the landing, standing back from the first step. "Everyone assumes that the attack began here with both on the same level. But what if the attacker stood here," he moved to the edge of the step, "and Kavanagh was say two steps down." He waited while John stood where Chuck pointed. "Someone my or Dr. McKay's height would find it very awkward to use the injector this way. The assailant would be off balance and risk falling if Kavanagh were to put up a fight before the insulin began to affect his system."

Amelia stepped forward. "It could've gone the other way too. Kavanagh on the landing and the other guy down a couple of steps making him left handed or even ambidextrous."

John caught the eyes of each of his companions. "You know what you're saying?"

"Yes, sir. Kavanagh's attacker could have been much shorter _or_ much taller than originally thought meaning…"

"…meaning there's reasonable doubt and we can prove it."

**A Small Apartment**

**East Las Vegas**

The apartment was nothing to write home about. It was small and cluttered with other people's cast off furniture. All one could see out the window was another apartment window and the only thing new in the three small rooms was the microwave, computers, plasma screen and gaming system.

At the moment, the game was paused while the player paced from the window to the kitchen and back. On the next pass he took a beer from the refrigerator then continued his walk.

He'd tried playing Duty Bound and his favorite fantasy MMORPG, Legend of Lomel Eregeth: The Search for the Sword of Gruineth, but nothing could take his mind off what he'd seen.

Not normally a news watcher, he just happened to catch one of the local stations and wished with everything he had that he hadn't. Ever since that day, all he could hear is his nana's voice telling him to do the right thing no matter the cost. But the cost could be his life and that of his family because everyone knew who owned the Odyssey and six other casinos in the area and what went on there. Money laundering, hits for hire, protection, and who knew what else. Did he really want to put their lives in danger too?

Going into the bathroom, he took down a bottle of nighttime pain reliever, swallowed two with a glass of water, turned off the TV and gaming system then changed into his pajamas. Sitting on the side of the bed, he rubbed his forehead with both hands before lying down to stare up at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

The next few days passed in the same manner. He searched the Internet to find out everything he could about the main player in this particular case, sitting for hours with photos in front of him and telling himself that the person he thought he saw wasn't the person he thought it was. The problem with that was he _knew_ he was right.

Everyone knew who owned the hotel and casino where the murder had been committed. If he spoke up, he and his family might be killed. If he did nothing, an innocent man would go to prison or be put to death for the crime.

Digging the phone out of his back pocket, he let the idea pass through his cerebral cortex one last time, coming to the same conclusion. He'd already looked up the attorney's number and programmed it into his phone. All he had to do was dial, but still he hesitated.

With a growl of frustration, he hit the send key, pacing nervously back and forth in front of the kitchen counter while he waited for someone to answer. "Hi. You don't know me, but I have some information about that guy you're representing, McKay…Uh, Randy. Randy Archer…No, I don't know McKay or the guy who was killed, but what I _do_ know…" he paused for a breath, "…is that McKay guy is innocent."

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 10

Going on a "date" with Daniel Jackson wasn't much different than sharing dinner with him. He held her hand the entire walk back to their cars and insisted on driving her to the restaurant. Once there, they talked about the same types of topics they normally discussed, but he reached back over and laced their fingers together. The difference, however, became evident in how he looked at her. Rebekah found herself stunned at the level of emotion he allowed himself to show. It seemed as if Daniel had held back until now, had worn a mask so complete that she suddenly realized that she didn't truly know him at all.

Plus, he seemed a bit more comfortable with touching her. Rebekah smiled as, after they finished their meal and he escorted her back to his Jeep, he reached for her hand. It was a little thing, but it reminded her of how her dates with Brody had gone. Back then, she'd been a hormonal teenager and hadn't seen the value in simple physical contact with no expectations or demands. Even after they'd married, she and Brody rarely touched one another. When they did, it was usually because one or the other of them wanted a _lot_ more than simple contact. Daniel, however, seemed delighted to just know she was there. Rebekah could not believe how special it made her feel.

At her car, he walked around the side and stood next to it as she opened the door. The coffee shop had closed, and the only vehicles around belonged to the owner, who lived nearby. The streetlight cast its strange yellow-orange glow on everything, making the shadows seem deeper and giving everything a weird tint. Rebekah wished she could still see Daniel's eyes as she smiled up at him. "Thanks. For. . .everything," she finished awkwardly.

He smiled, catching the inside of his lower lip in his teeth for a moment as if uncertain. "I had a good time tonight, too."

Crickets hummed for a moment, and then Rebekah broke eye contact. "I really should be going."

Daniel nodded. "Yeah." He sobered. "Listen, I had some things come up with work, some stuff that might have me traveling for a time. Hopefully I won't have to, but if I have to suddenly up and leave. . . ."

She decided to take a risk and reached out, flattening a hand against his chest. "No questions asked." She shrugged. "I can't promise that I won't ever ask in the future, but I'll do my best."

He nodded again and stepped away, helping with her inability to concentrate on leaving the parking lot. She slipped into her car and smiled when he closed the door. Everything about that night, from their emotional discussion about previous relationships to their awkward and soft goodbye, had been perfect. Daniel hadn't even tried to kiss her, which told her that he wouldn't push until she was ready. As she drove away, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him still standing beneath the streetlight, his Jeep idling nearby. He had his hands in his pockets and was watching her disappear.

What had she done to find a guy like that? Other than dropping a book on his foot? As she headed for her apartment, she sighed. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was glad she'd done it.

~~O~~

"Do I even _want_ to know what kind of favor you pulled in to get this?" Mitchell's question interrupted Daniel's concentration the next day. He glanced up from his desk, knowing he looked extremely busy but really wasn't, in time to see the Air Force colonel stroll into his office. Mitchell nodded. "Right. Well, thanks. I'll get these reports to Jackson and see if he can make heads or tails of them." A moment later, he hung up his cell phone.

Daniel gave Mitchell a sarcastically expectant look. "Reports?"

Mitchell held up a thick file. "Sheppard pulled a few strings and got us the forensic reports on Kavanagh's murder. He wants us to go through them while they work things from the investigative angle."

Daniel closed the journal he'd been writing in and accepted half of the stack. The various reports had been paper-clipped together, and Mitchell sighed deeply as he plopped down in a chair across from the archaeologist. For a moment, Daniel worked to get his head back to the SGC and the real world. He'd been deep in a scene where Valerie discovered Derek had been kidnapped, and the interruption wasn't very welcome. "So, this is all the stuff LVPD sent over?"

"No, this is all that's in." Mitchell opened the first report. "From what I understand, the investigators put a rush on all work related to this case because of the nature of both Kavanagh's and McKay's work for the government. There are still reports waiting to come in, like DNA reports and such. But this is what they have so far."

"And we're looking for. . .?"

"Anything that doesn't add up."

Daniel dropped his stack of reports on his desk, pinning Mitchell in place. "Do you have _any_ idea how big of a job that is?"

"Yeah." Mitchell peeked over the edge of his stack. "And I was supposed to get out of here early tonight."

"Oh, well, I'd cancel any plans to watch football." Daniel frowned at the file in front of him. _For that matter, cancel any plans to call Rebekah or finish that scene with Derek and Valerie, too_, he said to himself as Mitchell stood and walked to another corner of the room.

"Wasn't watchin' football tonight." Mitchell's voice was muffled by the mini fridge Daniel had added in his office. "I _was _takin' Marina to dinner." He set a can of Dr. Pepper on the edge of Daniel's desk, opening one for himself. While Mitchell preferred beer, Daniel still didn't like drinking all that much. His tolerance for alcohol had risen slightly, but one beer still left him a bit too drunk for his own liking.

Now, he looked up slowly, digesting the idea that his team member had a date with Rebekah's best friend. "You have a _date_?"

"No, not a _date_ date." Mitchell shrugged. "It's just. . .dinner. Y'know, see if we even want to _date_ date."

Daniel blinked at him, pulling on all the years of diplomatic experience to keep his dubious expression in place. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, well, I just. . .When I invited Rebekah to the team barbeque, it was because Vala and Sam wanted to meet her." Daniel shrugged. "I wasn't. . . .You know what? Never mind."

Mitchell thankfully dropped the subject, though he did grin. Daniel ignored him. He grabbed his pen and started reading the report in front of him, a report on trace evidence that showed someone wearing a very nice black suit jacket had attacked Kavanagh. Since they had video of McKay leaving the hotel wearing a dark blue suit that could be mistaken for black. . . .He didn't like how things were lining up.

"So," Mitchell said, breaking the silence, "what were you workin' on when I barged in here?"

Daniel glanced at his journal. "Well, I _was_ taking a lunch break and getting some thoughts on paper."

"Thoughts?"

"Writing a book." Daniel figured he'd just admit it now instead of hem-hawing around. Then, he frowned. When had he started thinking like Mitchell?

Mitchell's head rose. "Archaeology book?"

"Fictional book." Daniel dared Mitchell to comment.

"Wow." Mitchell grinned. "Rebekah really got under your skin, didn't she?"

Daniel pursed his lips while he thought. He and Mitchell had never been as close as he and Jack. Jack didn't just ask questions. He barged in and demanded answers whether Daniel was ready to give them or not. But Jack had the advantage of having walked through the years immediately following Sha're's death. Mitchell didn't have the knowledge that there were some things Daniel Jackson did quietly and without a lot of fanfare. Dating was one of those things.

Turning back to his work, he nodded. "Yeah, she did," he said softly. Jack would understand what that meant. Another woman had come to mean enough to Daniel that he'd finally set aside his misgivings about his job, his life, and his losses to pursue her.

Mitchell nodded. "I hope it works out." He turned back to his reports. Conversation in the office stopped completely, with the exception of Mitchell asking for a translation every now and then. Most of the terms were familiar to Daniel due to his work at the SGC, but he still struggled with the overly technical reports. He supposed they would eventually prove McKay's innocence, but someone needed to understand them first. He just wished Mitchell had taken these to Sam or Carolyn rather than bringing them here. Then, he reminded himself that Sam was leaving that evening with the _Hammond_.

His sigh drew Mitchell's attention. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just. . . ." Daniel motioned to the reports in front of him, hoping Mitchell would take a hint and leave the topic alone. "Trying to make sense of it all."

Mitchell snickered at that but, thankfully, dropped the subject. Daniel continued to stare at the report, ignoring the other man and pushing his brain to focus on his job. Lunch had ended some time ago, so Valerie and Derek needed to wait, anyway. He could finish up that portion of the story when he managed to make it home that night. Besides, his story wasn't bothering him at the moment. Sam's departure was.

It had been wonderful to have her home for this little vacation. She'd delayed leaving again until McKay had been released on bail. She had even gone to Las Vegas and visited Jennifer during the entire incident. Daniel felt a little bad that he hadn't accompanied Sam, but he didn't know McKay or Jennifer as well as she did. She had commanded the entire expedition for a year and built some pretty strong friendships. From what Sam said, Jennifer Keller-McKay was holding up as well as could be expected under the pressure.

Now, Sam was leaving Earth again. Daniel reigned in his desire to heave yet another sigh. He and Teal'c were all that remained of the "original" SG-1. He liked Mitchell well enough, and Vala had even become a semi-welcome part of the team. When she dropped all of her games, Daniel loved her like a sister. Any spark of romantic interest between them had been killed a long time ago. But even Vala was talking about leaving Earth. Times were changing for SG-1, more than at others, and Daniel hated the changes. He missed his team: Jack, Sam, Teal'c and himself. He missed the way things used to be.

But, if things hadn't changed, he wouldn't have met Rebekah. And, right now, Daniel could honestly say he was grateful for Rebekah's presence in his life. He hadn't been looking for a new romance, hadn't wanted to even entertain the idea of putting another woman in danger, and surely hadn't intended to fall in love with anyone. Falling in love was dangerous . Every woman he'd truly loved had either been taken as a host to a Goa'uld or outright killed. But something about Rebekah drew him. They connected on a level that wasn't work or SGC-related. She had no idea what he truly did for a living, and he liked that. She accepted him at face value: an archaeologist who traveled to exotic locales and worked for the government. Not for the first time, Daniel wondered if he could have a "normal" life and still go through the gate.

"Earth to Dr. Jackson." Mitchell's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Interesting report?"

"No, I was just thinking."

"For the past hour?"

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Yeah." Mitchell dropped the stack of files he'd been trying to read on the corner of Daniel's desk. "I'm goin' to dinner. Try not to stay all night."

Daniel glared at the man as he walked out of the office, not really angry that Mitchell had abandoned him. The colonel worked as many hours as he did, and he was thankful that Mitchell had found someone at least interesting. Thinking about Marina, though, made Daniel think about Rebekah. They'd shared dinner a couple days ago, and it had been an enlightening experience. Several times, he'd seen something flicker in Rebekah's eyes as she stared at their hands. Apparently, her ex hadn't seen the value in a simple touch. Daniel had learned early in his marriage to Sha're that he could communicate as much through simply holding his wife's hand as he could through speaking to her. That had bridged the cultural gap between them and led to some of the more memorable moments he'd shared with her. Sha're had been his teacher, then. He had been a lost young man, more lonely than he'd admitted to anyone and afraid every person he loved would leave him. Now, it appeared he would pass along Sha're's lessons to Rebekah, hopefully making Rebekah's life richer for the process. _Just like Sha're did for me,_ he thought.

Figuring he wouldn't get any more work done, Daniel reached for the cell he now kept in his pocket. Flipping it open, he hit redial and listened to the other end play music. A moment later, Rebekah's slightly distracted voice came on the line. _"Hello?"_

"Bad time?"

"_Not really."_ Her voice trailed slightly, as if she was writing something down. A moment later, he heard something click against a table or desk. _"Just finished the first scene in a new story."_

Daniel grinned at that. He'd been encouraging her to write the novel she always wanted to write, but she'd hesitated. "Listen, if you're not writing, I wondered if you'd like to have dinner tonight."

"_I'd love to."_ Her smile could be heard in her voice. _"What time?"_

Daniel glanced at his watch. "Two hours?"

"_Sounds great."_ Rebekah paused for a moment. _"Daniel?"_

"Yes?"

"_Thanks for thinking about me."_

He nodded even though she couldn't see him. "You're welcome. I'll be at your place in two hours."

Hanging up the phone, he straightened his desk, stored the reports in his safe, and grabbed his journal. Rebekah seemed genuinely surprised that he'd called, and he resolved to show her just how much he enjoyed spending time with her. How he planned to do that was a mystery, but he resolved to do so. Rebekah Jacobs was a very special woman as far as Daniel was concerned, and he looked forward to slowly showing her what she meant to him.

~~O~~

Thursday evening found Rebekah arriving at the coffee shop early and setting up tables as she smiled at nothing in particular. Two days earlier, Daniel had called and surprised her with an invitation to dinner. Since she'd not felt like cooking that night, she agreed in a heartbeat. His call, however, meant a lot more than just a dinner invitation. Since their Friday confessions to one another, Daniel's opinion of her came to matter a lot more than she let on. She still hadn't told anyone that she was dating someone, and she wasn't certain she should let Marina in on the secret. Of course, Marina was observant enough to figure it out based on how Daniel and Rebekah acted around one another.

Tuesday evening, Daniel had taken Rebekah to a coffee shop across town. The place was low-key, with a small platform featuring a local musician, and a quiet atmosphere. That night's performer was a classical guitarist who knew just how to set a mood for a room. Bookshelves lined one wall, inviting people to read, while several college students had their laptops set up in a corner. Daniel had held Rebekah's hand the entire evening, sharing tidbits of his more humorous trips with her, and in general making her laugh. She, in turn, told him about the chaos on her job caused by one very unhappy customer. The poor customer had every right to be upset, though. The woman was going through bankruptcy, her husband had left her, and her attorney had failed to inform the woman of her responsibilities and the effects of her bankruptcy. On top of that, the newly-trained phone operator had taken the woman's outpouring of stress personally and got into an argument. Rebekah had been forced to intervene as politely as possible. Of course, she couldn't tell Daniel the particulars of the situation, just how things affected personnel at work. Still, it had been a relief to get part of the frustration out in such a way that, in the end, she wound up laughing at Daniel's response. It had been completely relaxed and utterly perfect.

Now, Rebekah watched as Marina bounced through the door. She mentally prepared herself for the inevitable question and wasn't disappointed when her friend stopped next to her. "So," Marina began, "what's up with Dr. Hottie?"

Rebekah rolled her eyes. Marina needed some new material. From what Daniel said about Vala, the two women would either kill one another or get along famously. "His _name_ is Daniel, and he doesn't mind if you use it. Neither do I, for that matter. As for what's up with him, we had dinner the other night."

Marina narrowed her eyes. "I notice you didn't say you're just friends."

Rebekah sighed internally. Of course Marina would pick up on that. "So?"

"Soooo," Marina replied, drawing out the word, "does that mean things changed?"

"Maybe."

"Your mouth says 'maybe,' but your eyes say 'Yes!'"

Thankfully, Amy and her son appeared, giving Rebekah an escape from the conversation. Daniel showed up a few moments later, his eyes meeting Rebekah's as he gave her that same grin he always got whenever they started flirting. And they'd flirted a lot the other night.

After ordering his drink and making his way over to their corner of the coffee shop, Daniel set his notebook on the table and moved to Rebekah's side. "Hey."

"Hey, back." She rolled her eyes. "Marina's on the prowl, again."

Daniel snickered. The other night, on top of fussing about her job, Rebekah had shared just how nosy her friend had become. Now, he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned toward her, a conspiratorial sparkle in his eyes. "Just ask her about Cam."

Rebekah blinked. "Cam? As in Colonel Mitchell?" A slow grin crossed her face as Daniel nodded. "Thank you. That's useful intel."

"Glad I could help."

They stayed that way, Rebekah leaning against the table, as they chatted quietly. The rest of the writing group arrived in their typically boisterous fashion, no one missing how Rebekah and Daniel seemed to be in their own little world. However, no one drew their attention to it beyond Marina giving Rebekah a "We are _so_ talking later!" grin. _Yes, we are,_ Rebekah thought. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, forcing herself to glance away from Daniel. "Tonight," she said to the group, "we're writing. I've been teaching you a lot of stuff, and I think we should get some writing done."

Heads nodded. Rebekah settled in her chair at the "head" of their group, thankful that Daniel was sitting at the opposite end. They liked to write together, but their writing always ended up in tears of laughter or with pen marks on their hands as they tried to "help" each other. Rebekah enjoyed every minute of it, but she didn't want to be more obvious to her group than she'd already been. Pulling out the burgundy leather journal he'd given her, she thought for a moment and then started writing.

About thirty minutes later, she glanced up. The corner had become very quiet with only smatterings of conversation between the group. Laptops clicked, and pages turned. Rebekah grinned. Marina sat, glaring at her laptop screen with her head in her hands as she tried to figure out something for her story. Amy typed away, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. Amy's son worked on a school art project. The other members either chewed bottom lips, frowned, typed, or grinned at their stories. Daniel sat back in his seat, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, his journal propped on his lap as he frowned in concentration. The fierceness on his face startled Rebekah, and she realized that he probably faced a lot more danger on his trips than he'd let on. After all, he traveled to isolated regions of the globe on a regular basis.

Suddenly, Amy sighed loudly. "What's that thing that has a streetlight on the top of it, but it's a lot more decorative and you see them decorated at Christmas?" She motioned with her hands as she spoke. "They're made out of black metal, usually wrought iron. . . ."

Daniel looked up from his own writing, the concentration on his face warring with his amusement. "A lamp post?"

"Thank you!" Amy went back to writing as Daniel turned to Rebekah. He shrugged, pulling his shoulders all the way to his ears, before settling back into his story yet again.

After two hours, the group began to break up. Rebekah grinned as members stood, groaned, stretched muscles, and in general made a scene. Marina, however, continued typing, her face a study in focus. Daniel observed the activity as well, though Rebekah knew he'd been finished writing for some time. He had entertained himself by watching her. The thought that he found her that intriguing made her flush, and she'd glanced up to let him know she knew what he was doing. She received an unrepentant grin in the process.

Now, Rebekah moved to his side as he stood. "Finally done staring?"

"I have lots of reasons to stare." He grinned again when she flushed. Then, he glanced at his watch. "I really do need to get going, though. I've got some reports to finish up."

Rebekah nodded. "No problem. I have a friend to harass."

Daniel peeked over his shoulder to where Marina still wrote. "Just go easy on her. It looks like she's really making progress."

Rebekah snorted. "Marina has made more progress than _me_ in the last few weeks."

Daniel touched Rebekah's arm at that. "You've had a bit of a distraction."

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe inspiration, but distraction you are not."

A few moments later, he left after promising to call her the next day. The last of the group said goodbye to Marina, who answered distractedly as she continued writing. Rebekah collected up stray cups and napkins, giving her friend a moment to get to a stopping point. As soon as Marina started saving her work, Rebekah plopped into the chair next to her. "So," she began, "what's up with Colonel Hottie?"

Marina's head snapped up. "What? Who told you about that?"

"Daniel."

Marina rolled her eyes. "_Now_ I know why you hate it when I ask you about him."

Rebekah grinned yet again. "So, you two dating?"

"So," Marina parroted, "you and Daniel dating yet?"

Rebekah rolled her eyes. She figured she might as well answer all the questions Marina was sure to ask. "Yes, we're dating. No, he hasn't kissed me. Yes, we're taking it slow. No, it's not just because of Brody. Does that about cover it?"

"All except one thing." Marina became really serious. "You really like him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Rebekah sensed the change in her friend and knew this had moved from the realm of teasing into the realm of a heart-to-heart. It rarely happened with Marina and was very special when it did. "He's gone through some things, I've gone through some things. Daniel's special, Marina. More special than anyone else I've ever met. I almost wish I'd met him years ago, before Brody."

"You wouldn't be who you are today without Brody." Marina sighed. "Cam and I aren't officially dating yet. We did have dinner, but. . . ." She shrugged. "He's fun to be around, and I really do like him. But I can't say that I've got that same spark you have with Daniel."

"But you could?"

Marina nodded. "And that scares me to death."

Rebekah didn't have to ask why. For a person like Marina, who never took anything seriously, the thought of a relationship that lasted for more than a month was a scary proposition. Marina had no experience in building a lasting relationship, and she likely didn't know what to do next. Rebekah decided to intervene. "When are you having dinner with him again?"

"Saturday, provided his job doesn't send him elsewhere."

"Let's go out tomorrow. You and me. We can talk guys, stories, whatever." Rebekah decided to sweeten the deal. "I'll even tell you about my latest date with Daniel."

Marina glared. "You drive a hard bargain!"

"I know."

"Sounds good." Marina nodded and started packing up her computer. "I'll get all mushy with you about Cam as long as you spill the beans on what's going on with you and Daniel."

After setting up a time and place to meet, Rebekah headed for her car with a smile firmly on her face. It felt good to have someone else know that she and Daniel shared something very, very special. Her hopes for the future had soared when he explained just how serious he was, and she decided that her very real doubts could wait for another day. She never saw Marina pull out her phone and dial a number. Nor did she see the sad expression on her friend's face.

~~O~~

Traffic had never been slower. Rebekah sat behind the wheel in her Mustang, the car in neutral at an intersection near the I-25. There had been a minor fender-bender ahead, and the police were in the process of directing lunch hour traffic around the two cars. She tapped the wheel, her air conditioner blowing in her face as she smiled.

Daniel had called over lunch. He admitted that he'd locked himself in his office to talk to her because "his team" had a habit of interrupting. Then, they spent the short while Rebekah had been at Subway talking about a whole lot of nothing. Now, if traffic didn't speed up, Rebekah would be late for her evening plans with Marina.

The car in front of her finally began to move, and Rebekah shifted into first gear and carefully steered around the two vehicles that had collided. It appeared to be a matter of one driver not seeing the car in front of him had stopped. Turning her attention back to the road, she glanced at her watch and realized she wouldn't make it back to work on time. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed, wanting to at least let someone at work know she'd be late.

She looked up in time to see a truck slam into the front of her car.

~TBC


	12. Chapter 11

**Illusions**

**Chapter Eleven**

Hat pulled low over his face, hood up and sunglasses covering his eyes, Randy Archer moved quickly down the street. From the moment he left his apartment he felt the tingle of being watched. It _had_ to be his imagination. Only that lawyer, McKay and a couple others knew why he was headed to one of the few hotels and casinos not owned by some mob boss. It was rumored that this particular hotel had been bought by a guy who had recently retired from the CIA. It was one of those stories that no one would confirm or deny. But everyone admitted that it made a good story.

The traffic was moderate at this time of day. Just enough to have to block it out. Not for the first time he wished he hadn't left his headphones at home because music would've been great about now. Would've helped take his mind off the hair standing up on the back of his neck and the creepy chill down his spine.

Relief rushed through Randy when he saw the hotel's marquis advertising the appearance of a reunited rock band from the eighties. Ignoring the tourists pointing and staring, he reached for the pull handle just as a burning sensation started in his upper back followed by pain worse than he'd ever felt before. Looking down, he saw a blossom of red growing on the front of his T-shirt. "Oh crap. I've been s-s-shot." Touching the area, he turned around and his existence was snuffed out by the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

~~O~~

Touching the side of Randy's neck, John shook his head telling Woolsey, Marjorie, Rodney and Jennifer that the one person who could exonerate Rodney was now dead. "Sniper." His eyes scanned the area as he took the proffered tissue and wiped his fingerprints from the young man's skin. Getting to his feet, John motioned that they should all go back inside before the cops and paramedics arrived.

"What now?" John asked Marjorie as they entered the elevator.

Marjorie took out her phone and scrolled through one of the apps. "I recorded his phone call. Might not hold up in court though it wouldn't hurt to try. In the meantime, we should keep looking for evidence of Rodney's innocence."

"Oh, _great_. Where, _exactly_, are we gonna find this evidence? There is no record of the email inviting me to the banquet that never was and I did the search myself so you can take that to the bank. This Randy person may have seen me, but I didn't see him."

"_Relax_, Rodney. We're working on it," John used his most soothing voice, but it still came out flecked with annoyance.

This conversation reminded Marjorie of a previous one they'd had in this very room several days ago. And again it centered on John when their focus should've been on Rodney…

~~O~~

"_The investigative information is still coming to us at a trickle. If we could find a way to know what the detectives know when they know it…" John jumped up and left the room without saying another word startling Marjorie. "Now where is he going?"_

"_Prognostication of Colonel Sheppard's actions can be difficult at times," Woolsey said with the lift of one eyebrow in an expression of humor._

"_He's in the military. Guessing what he's going to do is easy. It's the way he does it that's difficult to figure out." Rodney huffed then relaxed when Jennifer took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. "But there's always a method to his madness."_

"_And running out of here without even saying good-bye will help? What's his plan?"_

"_You asked for it. He's going to make it happen," Woosley stated with confidence. "Apparently my call to the Mayor didn't have the desired effect."_

"_I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say he's calling a favor or two."_

"_That would be a very good guess."_

_She swept the room with her piercing gaze. "And every one of you has contacts so high I would get a nose bleed if their names were spoken aloud in my presence."_

_Woolsey smiled. "Whimsical, yet surprisingly accurate. He will also be bringing a few sets of eyes belonging to individuals who have had more than their share of encounters with situations somewhat similar in nature."_

"_See? This is why you should never lie from your attorney. If this gets out, it could blow our entire defense."_

_Jennifer huffed sounding more like Rodney than ever before. "We didn't lie, Ms. Warlock."_

"_You withheld information, Dr. Keller. That's as bad as lying. I can't effectively defend your husband if I don't know everything. And I mean everything. Any information, no matter how insignificant, could work in our favor. Or worse, against us. And I don't like being blindsided."_

_The Lanteans exchanged glances she found easy to interpret. When Woolsey spoke again, she wasn't surprised by his request._

"_Ms. Warlock, could you leave us alone for a few minutes?"_

_Marjorie shoved several of the case files into her briefcase, zipped it shut and picked up her purse. "I was just going down to the café for coffee. Can I bring you anything?"_

_To stop Rodney, Jennifer squeezed his hand. "No thank you. We have plans later with Rodney's family."_

_Woolsey walked with Marjorie to the door. "We'll call you." She smiled, but they all saw the frustration in the stomp of her heels as she walked to the elevator._

~~O~~

In the bar of a small casino, two men and one woman sat together in a quiet corner drinking beer and not talking. The server came around, took their empties and replaced them with fresh. The woman snagged a pretzel from the bowl and munched on it though she really wasn't hungry. They were here to decide what to do next. She started when Carlos touched her on the arm. "What?"

"Daydreaming about all the extra money we're gonna to have now that we don't have to share with Gavin?"

Emma smiled. "Can't decide what color Jaguar to get first." She gave the car's name the British pronunciation. "Red, black or silver." The third member on the group never smiled. Ever. He was like Gavin that way though Emma didn't really care one way of the other, as long as she could retire to a tropical island that had no extradition treaty with the United States. Sandy beaches, crystal blue water, palm trees and Margaritas were all she needed aside from a place to lay her head at night and a different bathing suit for each day of the month. "What about you, Eddie?"

"No sense in spending stuff we haven't got yet." Eddie took an iPhone from his pocket, scrolling until he came to the notepad. "Okay, here's what's next on the agenda…"

Carlos snorted. "Who died and made _you_ boss?"

"Gavin," Eddie stated.

Carlos slapped the table got their attention. "This whole _game_ was Gavin's idea. Now that he's gone, we should take what we have and scatter." Just as he always did, Carlos kept his voice low, as if the three of them were the best of friends. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

They'd only known each other a short time, less than nine months. No one used their real names, just a nickname they'd chosen to go by when they got together. Since he'd been killed a few days before, they now knew Gavin's real name to be Peter Kavanagh, an out of work theoretical astrophysicist. These little meetings were what Emma privately called their pre-game show. Watching Carlos over her bottle as she tipped it back for a long drink, she could see Carlos gearing up for a fight. Before she could intervene, the presence of a stranger tickled at her senses.

"May I join you?"

Turning to the left, she looked up into the smiling face of a man with light brown hair and brown eyes. She knew her companions were scowling at the intrusion. Not that today was different than any other day. Just to tweak them, she smiled as if he were a long lost friend. "Sure! I'm Emma. This is Carlos and that's Eddie. What can we do ya for?"

The man pulled out the chair between Emma and Carlos, his posture relaxed and confident as he took in the three faces, the men watching him warily. "It's come to the attention of the people I work for that you're little band is without a leader." He leaned forward taking a pretzel from the bowl and eating it. The server came over and he graced her with another of those unpretentious smiles.

"What can I get ya, honey?" The woman was dark-haired, somewhere in her forties, but with the slim, toned body of a dancer, shown off to perfection in the skimpy costume.

He shrugged. "Beer. And I'm not picky. Surprise me." The conversation didn't resume until after the server had set a bottle of Sam Adams Summer Ale in front of him. He reached into his pants pocket withdrawing a five and a twenty. As if it was something he did every day, he handed the twenty over with a wink. "Keep the change…honey."

The woman returned his cheeky grin as she shoved the bill into the front of her uniform allowing one little corner to stick out. "Any time."

He ogled her as she sauntered over to another table then returned his attention to his companions. "As I was saying, you need a new leader and I've been sent to take on that role."

Taking an iPhone-like device from his breast pocket, he touched the screen in several places, the light flickering over his features. Emma found him very attractive, adorable even, her sharp mind working out a way for them to be alone, but not for the reason most people would think. She watched him, appreciating his self-assurance and economical movements.

Eddie growled. "We don't _need_ your help. We can do this _alone_."

Emma cast a glare at Eddie. "Let's just hear him out."

Again, the newcomer met each gaze. "Good. Here's what I had in mind…"

"Wait. What's your name?"

That grin again. "Call me…Chuck."

~~O~~

Checking his look in the mirror one last time, Chuck recalled the conversation he had with John, Woolsey, Rodney and the others. He knew his CO could be persuasive though he wasn't quite certain how the man had convinced _him_ to go undercover.

Amelia's face appeared in the mirror beside Chuck's. "You look great, baby."

"You're just saying that because you love me."

"It's true on both counts. Blue really makes your eyes sparkle."

He drew her into a hug. Watching their joined reflection, he realized there was a flaw in his disguise. Easing away, he held up his left hand. "I have to leave the ring to make my story believable."

"I'm not happy about it, but I won't complain." She twisted the circle of gold off his hand and put it in her pocket. "Once this is over, it goes back on."

"_You_ are my one and only. Just remember that."

"I will."

Chuck pulled on a sport jacket purchased to be part of his disguise, tugged on the sleeves, kissed his wife and left the room. In one pocket he carried an Ancient device they'd found mixed in with the treasure trove in Janus' lab. They looked like iPhones, but were so much more. It had GPS that was undetectable by anyone who didn't have a compatible device, the ability to record at a touch or a word and best of all you had to have the gene to use it. In various other pockets he carried cash-lots of it, and a fake I.D. that looked like the real thing.

Once outside, Chuck walked the seven blocks to the hotel where he would be putting on a show more subtle than the usual magic or music. He headed straight for the bar and there they were. The three he'd seen with Kavanagh the day Rodney and Kavanagh had their first argument. Taking a deep breath, he strode up to the table as if he had every right to be there. "May I join you?"

~~O~~

"_Someone should go undercover, infiltrate Kavanagh's cell to find out who's pulling the strings." John made the announcement the way he always did. With little emphasis, as if he were telling you it was hot in Las Vegas, cold in Antarctica or wet in Seattle._

_With a huff, Rodney got to his feet, rubbing his hands together. "I know you're all thinking it should be me, but…"_

"_Not you, Rodney. Your face has been all over the media. We need someone who can blend in. Someone like…"_

"_I'll do it." Chuck heard his voice speaking, offering to put his life in danger. A danger that was different than what they faced on a daily basis in Pegasus. Here, he couldn't carry a weapon. Back-up would be just a code word away, but there was still the chance they wouldn't get there in time and he still had a lot of living to do with Amelia._

"_You sure, Sarge?"_

"_Yes. As long as it's okay with my wife." Amelia wrapped her hand around his giving it a squeeze, and he returned the gesture. "When do we start?"_

~~O~~

In deference the presence of his niece, Rodney, Jennifer, Jeannie, Kaleb and the rest limited talk about the case against him and concentrated on putting up a front of happiness for her sake. But what they didn't know, or didn't want to know, was that Madison could sense that the adults were filled with apprehension. She knew it had something to do with Uncle Mer and Aunt Jennifer and what happened at the reception.

The boredom was getting to her though she didn't begrudge her parents wanting to stay nearby so they could help. She didn't know what her mom and dad could do, but knew they would do anything to save Uncle Mer. Uncle John's phone vibrated startling her while she was pushing food around on her plate.

"Sheppard…where?" He pushed away from the table, turned on his heel and left the dining room.

"What's goin' on?" the young girl asked. The adults looked at her, each other then back to their plates. "I'm a kid, not _stupid_. It's about when the police came to your party."

Rodney looked at Jeannie for help. "Your Uncle Mer is in some trouble. Dad has to go back to work in a few days, but you and I are staying here until it's over."

Looking from one face to another, Madison thought over what her mother said. She lay down her fork and walked around to Rodney. He turned as she came to his side and put her arms around his neck. "It'll be okay, Uncle Mer. Uncle John will figure it out."

Jennifer passed a hand down the girl's blond hair. "I'm sure he will, honey."

~~O~~

John paced around the room waiting for one of the contacts to say something, anything that would give them a clue as to who was backing the operation. But more importantly, they needed to find out who really killed Kavanagh so they could all go home and both newlywed couples could go on their respective honeymoons.

Pacing didn't help his restlessness the way it usually did. He had to get out of this hotel room, away from these four walls and all the people. Evan, Ronon, Amelia and Teyla could be counted on to mount a rescue if one should be necessary.

"Lorne."

"Sir?" Evan had been discreetly watching him from his seat near the kitchen.

"Keep eyes and ears on Campbell. I'm going for a drive."

"Will do, sir." The door slammed on the last word.

~~O~~

"…That's it then. We all have our assignments. Let's get to work." Chuck pushed back from the table only then noticing that Emma hadn't taken her eye off of him in some time, except when they exchanged phone numbers. "Something wrong, Emma?"

"No." The woman stood, pocketing her phone and tossing a few bills on the table. "See you later."

Chuck nodded and left by the same door he'd come in, his regular phone in one hand as he prepared to call John with a report. A beep told him he'd gotten a text. From Emma.

_I know who you are. _

Tapping quickly, he responded: _NOT possible. I don't exist…officially._

Emma's response wasn't a surprise. _Mocha Café on Highgate. One hour._

Naturally, he couldn't make it easy for her. _Can't. I have an appointment._

_Two words: Carlos and Eddie_

_Thought I did a good job of being mysterious and smug. Guess not. _He made a sound of exasperation._ What's this about?_

_One hour. Get me a latte. Do NOT be late._

Reading Emma's last text filled him with a small sliver of apprehension. Hitting speed dial, he called John. "Sir? We have a problem…"

~~O~~

He held up his phone, the photo showing a group of people dressed for a special occasion, the men in tuxes and one woman in a wedding gown. "This is your assignment."

His companion glanced at her screen, accepting the mission with a nod. "Does it matter which one?"

"On the left. Along with the photo, I've sent all the details you'll need to make your story credible."

"And?"

"And our people on the inside will take care of the trace evidence to back up your story." He sipped his beer, relaxed yet ready for whatever might happen next. She would do whatever she was told without questioning the morality of it just as she always did.

She smiled as if they'd been talking about a movie they'd seen together and enjoyed. "Should I implicate any of the others?"

He liked the way she thought though his smile didn't change. "That's an idea. Which one?"

"Oh, I was thinking…" she turned the screen, her finger pointing, "…this one."

He shrugged. "Makes sense. It also fits with what we're trying to accomplish." He waited, but she didn't ask him to elaborate. That and her appearance made her one of the best low-level operatives in his cell. If this went as planned, he'd see about bringing her in, making her his second now that his current one had outlived his usefulness. "Make your move when you get the signal."

"Got it." Together they stood and walked out the side entrance, her hand wrapped familiarly around his elbow.

At her car, he put her in, leaning down for a kiss before closing the door. They weren't romantically involved, but they wanted it to appear so to anyone watching. He lifted his hand in a wave as she turned out of the drive into traffic.

~~O~~

With John watching from across the street, Chuck entered the Mocha Café one minute before Emma's deadline. He went to the counter, ordered a regular coffee and a Cinnamon Dolce Latte, carrying both to a table in the corner. Emma looked at her watch, extending her hand for the cup he held out before sitting across from her.

"Right on time. But then I would've expected nothing less."

He sipped from his cup then set it down, his hand soaking up the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve. "What's up?"

"You are not who you pretend to be."

Chuckling, Chuck met her gaze unflinchingly. "Is anyone?"

She sipped from her cup, her eyes flicking away then back to him when the door opened to admit a woman pushing a stroller. "I concede that point."

"Is there a point to this pointless conversation?"

"There is. As I said before, I know who you are. Not your real name, who you are inside."

Pushing his cup to the side as if clearing the way for action, Chuck clasped his hands in front of him and let his smile fade. "Tell me more."

"I read people and you, my friend, are an open book." She too moved her cup out of the way. "You're much older than you look. Forty-two, maybe forty-three. You have three siblings, two sisters, one brother, all older. Mother is still living, but your father died when you were eleven. At one time, your family had money, but that all went away when you were very young. Though you normally stay in the background, pretend to be of slightly above average intelligence, you actually have an IQ of…one seventy-two. You drink beer to fit in though you prefer wine."

"Don't stop now. It's just getting interesting."

One side of Emma's mouth lifted. "You're Canadian though your American accent is excellent. I doubt many have picked it up. And you were in the military. My guess is the Canadian version of the Air Force." She paused for breath. "And you got married within the last week."

"I'm not confirming or denying anything but the last." Chuck glanced down at his bare left hand not seeing anything that would've given his status away. "How do you know I'm married?"

"I know when a man finds me attractive and you do, but you hold yourself back." She placed her right hand on top of his left. "Even now, I can feel you wanting to pull away because you think holding my hand makes it appear as if you're cheating. Plus you have a habit of touching your thumb to the underside of that finger checking for something that isn't there."

Carefully extracting his hand and keeping his features bland, Chuck leaned back in his chair, cup in hand. He took a long drink, finishing his coffee. "I know a few things about _you_ as well."

For some reason, she seemed to think his statement funny. Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair and nodded for him to continue. He obliged. "You keep your hair short to downplay your looks because they've held you back in the past. That's also why you dye it brown instead of leaving it blond. You don't wear make-up or bright colored clothing for the same reason. It's also why you wear colored contacts." He could see that she was trying not to react.

"You're an only child and your parents died when you were in high school leaving you penniless and in debt up to your ears. A scholarship helped put you through university, but you dropped out after your second year because you're easily bored. You found you had this talent for reading people and have been using it to make a living. You paid off your family's debts years ago, but still continue grifting for the rush. There's something else, something you're ashamed of. It's not the grifting or the huge debts from your past. I just can't put my finger on it. How am I doing?"

"Tell the truth, Chuck. You used your affinity for computers to check up on me, right?"

Chuck shook his head. "I read people too, but as a _hobby_, not to make a living."

Emma got to her feet, Chuck standing as well. "Now that we understand each other, let's get to work."

"This wasn't an attempt to procure a large cut for yourself? We each get twenty-five percent. More than fair as I'm doing most of the work, taking the biggest chance. And I wager it's more generous than your previous employer gave you."

"And you'd be right. I just wanted each of us to know where the other was coming from. Keep the playing field even." She picked up their empty coffee cups and tossed them in the trash. "I won't say anything to the guys."

Relieved that he and John didn't have to remove Emma from the equation, Chuck held the door open then followed her out. "I'll make the transfers into the offshore accounts tonight and tomorrow after midnight."

"Okay. Oh, I do have one question. That friend of yours who's been watching from across the street and recording everything? Is _he_ single?"

Knowing it was useless to deny John's presence, Chuck shrugged. "Uh, not exactly."

"Too bad. Well, see you in two days."

"Good luck, Emma."

"That's the first time you've called me by my name." She faced him, walking backwards. "And I don't _need_ luck, Chuck. Bye."

**Las Vegas Police Department**

**Homicide Division**

A young African-American woman, looking fearfully over her shoulder, hesitated before taking a deep breath and pushing open the front door to the police station. She stood in front of the desk waiting for the Sergeant to finish his phone call. When he did, he looked at her then back to his computer. "What can I do for you?"

"I…I need to speak to the detectives assigned to investigate that murder that's been in the news."

"Look, honey. We've had twenty-three murders in the last three weeks alone. I'll need a little more to go on."

She took out her phone, looking up the information. "Kavanagh. The dead guy's name was Kavanagh."

"Oh, _that_ one. Have a seat."

A few minutes later, Gin and Jase were standing in front of her. She stood up, her purse clutched in one hand. "My name is Sonya. Sonya Arroyo."

Gin extended her hand. "Detective Stevens. My partner, Detective Maguire. You have some information about the Kavanagh case?"

"Y-yes, ma'am. I, uh, was in the hotel that day gettin' tickets to the show for me and my husband." Sonya took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "And it wasn't that guy, the scientist. Uh…"

"McKay?"

"Yeah. He didn't do it."

"You know this how?"

"Because I saw what happened…and it wasn't him."

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 12

Daniel hung up the phone and stood to refill his coffee cup. General Landry had informed Mitchell that morning that SG-1 would resume their off world schedule on Monday. The Atlantis team was handling most of the investigation into the accusations against Dr. McKay, and Landry felt his flagship team would be put to better use going through the gate. He'd given Daniel and Mitchell the weekend to find out if this entire situation with the McKays warranted an in-depth investigation on the part of the SGC. Daniel believed so as he knew McKay, who was arrogant and sometimes demeaning to others, would never outright murder anyone. But _proving_ it in such a way to have SGC personnel put on the case was a bit trickier, especially with Atlantis's flagship team handling things in Las Vegas.

Unlocking his office door, Daniel sipped his coffee cup and carried the stack of reports he'd read from the room. He had spent the morning combing through them and had found more in favor of McKay's guilt than not. It didn't mean McKay had killed Kavanagh, however. It just meant whoever—or _whatever—_did it had done a good job of framing McKay. From what Sam said, both Rodney and Jennifer were scared by the events, which wasn't the best way to start out their marriage. Still, they were holding things together and working to figure out the intricacies of recent events.

Mitchell met Daniel in the briefing room, his own reports spread out on the conference table. While Vala gallivanted off to visit Keret, Daniel and Cam had decided to use the quiet to the best of their ability. Mitchell had his own cup of coffee in his hand as he stood next to the table, scowling down at the paper in front of him, as Daniel set his stack of files, a notebook, two pens, and his coffee cup on the table. "Find something?"

Mitchell glanced up. "What?"

Daniel pointed at the page. "You're scowling at it as if it's saying McKay's guilty."

"Well," Mitchell said, motioning to all the papers, "according to this, he is."

"He's _not_ guilty." Daniel dropped into a chair and started flipping through the reports he'd read. "I know it looks that way, but he's not."

"I'm not sayin' he is, Jackson." Mitchell sipped his coffee and grimaced when it was obviously cold. "I'm just sayin' the reports say he is."

Daniel chose not to point out that reports could be faked. Mitchell emptied his cold coffee, replaced it with hot, and then went to work. The two men had learned one another's strengths, and Daniel knew Mitchell understood more than he let on. The Air Force colonel liked having others interpret the really technical information so it was easier to understand, but he had a keen mind.

Mitchell broke the silence about an hour later. "So, talked to Rebekah today?"

Daniel glanced up, frowning. "Yes. Why?" He really didn't want to explain that just talking to Rebekah made his day better. That little realization, which dawned on him while he was visiting with her over lunch, was a bit too personal and sappy.

"She happen to mention anything about Marina?"

Daniel's frown deepened. "She said she and Marina were going out tonight. Why?"

"Huh." Mitchell picked up one of the reports Daniel had already summarized for him and glared at it. "That's odd."

Irritated at the apparent lack of an explanation, Daniel scowled. "Mitchell!"

Cam's head came up, and a sheepish expression covered his face. "Sorry," he said simply. "Apparently, Marina's got a family issue that's come up, and she's going to be out of town indefinitely."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Mitchell shrugged. "Her great aunt broke her hip and needed some help for the next week or so."

Daniel cringed but kept quiet. Mitchell quite liked Marina, and he sincerely hoped this great aunt wasn't a fabrication to put Mitchell off for a while. Making a mental note to ask Rebekah about it the next time they talked, he went back to work. Landry wandered through, looking for coffee, a short time later and asked for an update. Daniel and Mitchell gave him the brief rundown of what they'd learned and stood back, waiting for Landry's response.

"So, you've basically got nothing?" Landry asked.

"Not nothing, General," Daniel replied. "Even though this seems inconsequential to the matter at hand, it might give us a better idea of who really did kill Dr. Kavanagh. As I've said before. . . ."

Landry held up a hand. "I know. And I don't think Dr. McKay is guilty any more than you do.."

"Yes, Sir, I know that."

"So, what are you doing to continue this investigation?" Landry turned to Mitchell, effectively cutting off anything else that Daniel wanted to say.

Mitchell gave Daniel a sympathetic glance. "We're following up a few leads. Jackson's got a call in to Agent Barrett at the NID, and I'm waitin' for an old buddy of mine to return a call as well. He got out of the military and became a cop. I figured he might be able to help out as an outside resource. Even with SG-1 resuming our off world schedule, we'll be here often enough to help."

Landry nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ring of a cell phone cut him off. All eyes in the room turned to Daniel, who looked just as surprised as any of them. "Sorry." He pulled out the phone and frowned at the number. It wasn't Barrett, and it was local. Punching the answer button, he chose to play it cool. "Hello?"

"_Daniel?"_

That one word sent a sliver of alarm shooting through him. "Rebekah?" He held up a finger to the rest of the room. "Excuse me." Not waiting for permission, he slipped into the hall and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"_Can you come?"_

Daniel blinked. "Come where?" He hated feeling out of the loop, but Rebekah normally didn't call him in the middle of the afternoon. He blinked at his watch. She should have been at work, counting down the minutes until her day ended in an hour. Why was she talking to him on the phone? Furthermore, why did she sound so weak?

There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line, and a new voice spoke. _"Dr. Jackson?"_

"Yes?"

"_My name is Marcia. I'm a nurse at Memorial Hospital Central."_ The other woman's voice caused the sliver of panic to blossom into full-blown worry. _"Ms. Jacobs is here and asking for you."_

"Right. What. . .uh, what happened?"

"_She's been in a serious car accident and is asking for you."_

As soon as the words "serious car accident" registered, Daniel bolted back into the briefing room. "How is she?"

"_I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson, but I'm not at liberty to say."_ Marcia sounded genuinely regretful.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said into the phone. Covering the receiver, he looked at Mitchell and Landry. "Rebekah's been in a car accident, and she's asking for me."

"Go." Mitchell didn't even glance at Landry. "We'll finish up here."

Landry nodded. "Keep us posted, Dr. Jackson."

Putting the phone back to his ear, Daniel headed for the elevator. "I'm on my way."

"_Daniel?"_ Rebekah was back on the phone.

"Yeah, just hang in there. I'm coming."

"_Thanks."_

He smiled even though she couldn't see him. "You're welcome." A few moments later, he hung up the phone and walked out of the elevator toward the locker room.

It took about twenty minutes to get from the briefing room to the hospital, and Daniel rushed directly to the push-button speaker that allowed him to talk to someone in the emergency room. When they asked what he needed, he told them who he was and why he was there. The door was unlocked from inside, and Daniel glanced around to get his bearings.

A pretty nurse younger than Rebekah and wearing a modest wedding band came up to him. "Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes."

"I'm Marcia." She motioned behind her, talking as she went. "While I can't tell you anything about Ms. Jacobs' condition, I can say she's just arrived back from Xray. She's a bit. . .cranky."

Daniel grinned at that. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." He peeked in the door to the private area where Rebekah was waiting and then slipped inside when he saw that she was alone. His boots made very little noise on the hospital floor, giving him a chance to just study her. Her hair was limp, one strand of it lying across her forehead. Cuts marred her pale face, most of them merely cleaned but a one over her right eye and on her left cheekbone sported butterfly stitches. Her arms were covered in cuts as well, evidence that her windshield had obviously shattered all over her. The hospital gown hid more injuries, and she frowned as she stirred. He winced. "Rebekah?"

"Daniel?"

He quickly moved to her side, seeing the way her right leg was propped up on pillows and obviously injured. "I'm right here." He reached for the hand waving his way, letting her decide whether to take it or not. She slipped her cold fingers over his and wrapped her left hand around his thumb, holding on tightly as she shifted her position in the bed. Daniel held firm until she relaxed, smiling when he realized she didn't want to let go of his hand at all. Rather than forcing the issue, he snagged a chair with his toe and pulled it over to sit at her side. "What happened?"

"I don't know." She shook her head and frowned at him. "I was on my way back to work from lunch. The light turned green, and this truck rammed into my car."

Daniel winced at her description. He'd been in enough life-and-death situations to know the chaos and uncertainty that happened when adrenaline and fear took over. "You made it, though," he said gently as he reached to brush the lock of hair on her forehead away from her face.

She smiled again. "Yeah." Then, she shrugged. "I was looking forward to that date tomorrow."

Unable to stop himself, he chuckled. "Marcia said you were cranky."

"I was." Rebekah met his eyes. "They gave me morphine, Daniel."

He nodded. "Oh, good stuff."

"Not for me." She shook her head. "Morphine doesn't work in my family. Just has a weird effect on us. Makes me cranky, makes my brother dopey. Does nothing for the pain."

Daniel winced. "So, Marcia couldn't give me any specifics. What's going on?"

Rebekah opened her mouth to speak but stopped when she saw someone in the doorway. Daniel turned and watched a doctor walk into the room. The man was older, in his mid to late sixties, and wearing a white lab coat. He eyed Daniel and then turned to Rebekah. "Ms. Jacobs?"

She met his eyes. "It's okay. He can know."

All at once, Daniel was thankful they'd defined what this was between them. Since they were officially dating, he could say he was her boyfriend and hopefully be allowed to stay around a bit longer. But, he wanted her to be certain. Turning to Rebekah, he gave her a questioning gaze that he wasn't sure penetrated the drugged haze she in which she currently found herself. "Rebekah? I can leave."

Her hand tightened on his. "No! Please, don't."

The doctor nodded. "I'm Dr. Richards." He paused while Daniel introduced himself and said that he and Rebekah were "seeing each other." That seemed to be enough for the doctor because he continued. "Ms. Jacobs, I was just contacted by Dr. Thompson's office. He's just finished with his previously scheduled surgery and should be ready for you in about an hour. The OR is being prepared."

Rebekah swallowed convulsively. "How. . .how long is this going to take?"

"The surgery?" Richards sighed. "I'm not entirely sure. Both your tibia and fibula are broken. The fibula is going to require two screws at your ankle, and the tibia might need a plate." He reached out and touched Rebekah's other arm in an attempt to be soothing, but she pulled her arm away with a glare. "Either way, I'm afraid you'll be completely off your feet for several weeks."

"Oh." She continued to glare at the doctor, and Daniel had to work to stifle the grin that wanted to form. This was no laughing matter, but seeing her so irritated because of a medication he always enjoyed having when in severe pain was. . .cute. Then, he realized she was in severe pain, and his urge to grin faded pretty quickly.

When she didn't say much more, Richards glanced at Daniel. "I'll leave you two alone, but I wanted you to know you'll be heading out of here in about thirty minutes."

Rebekah watched him go, her glare disintegrating into a worried frown as the doctor disappeared. "Daniel?"

"You're going to be fine." He met her eyes, smoothing her hair away from her face even though she didn't need it.

"I've never had surgery before."

"Well, I have. The hardest part is honestly the not knowing before you go in and the recovery after you come out."

"Will you stay?"

The question, sounding so small and uncertain, almost broke his heart. "Of course."

"Thanks." She closed her eyes and dozed, the first time she'd done that since he'd arrived, and Daniel simply held her hand. Every time he moved as if to pull away, she tightened her grip, so he tried to stay very still. As it was, his back ached by the time Marcia arrived to wheel her away to prep for the operation.

After reassuring Rebekah that he would be waiting for her when she woke up, Daniel watched as her bed was wheeled out of the room. He slowly walked to the surgical waiting room Marcia had indicated, pulling out his cell phone as he went. He dialed Mitchell's number and tried to push away how deeply Rebekah's call today had shaken him.

"_Jackson! What's goin' on?"_ Mitchell had clearly been worried.

"Rebekah's going in for surgery right now. They're putting screws and possibly a plate in her leg." Daniel found the surgical waiting room dark and empty. He went on to explain what had happened.

Mitchell cursed quietly, no doubt reminded of his own injuries in the F-302. _"You holdin' up okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine." Daniel grimaced at the thought that, while he was worried for Rebekah, he was coping well. Had he really been in enough of these situations that waiting for someone in surgery was commonplace? "My biggest concern right now is for Rebekah. She's never had surgery before, and she's pretty drugged up. Once that fades. . . ."

"_Got it."_ Mitchell paused as he spoke with someone, probably Landry and Teal'c, on the other end. _"Anything else you need?"_

"Uh. . ." Daniel looked around. "You have Marina's number?"

"_Yep."_

"Call her." Daniel shrugged. "She needs to be here if she can."

Mitchell snorted but added that he would do as Daniel asked. Once the phone call ended, Daniel headed for the hospital cafeteria. It looked to be a long evening, and he had promised Rebekah that he wouldn't leave.

As he ate his meal, he considered his feelings concerning this little crisis. While not Earth shattering on a literal scale, it had shaken him more than he cared to admit. For years, he'd been a part of something that had the potential to kill him—and had killed him—and he coped. Now, with one phone call, Rebekah had left him in a state of complete uncertainty. Her injury could have been life threatening but wasn't, she would eventually be okay, and life would go on.

But it was more than that. Rebekah meant a great deal to Daniel, and he hated to admit the fear that had invaded him at that simple phone call. Rebekah was his anchor to the outside world, to the reality that life wasn't just about the SGC. She reminded him that there were simpler things in life than translations and going through the Stargate and that he was allowed to enjoy them from time to time. The last six weeks that they'd been friends, he had come to care for her in a way that he hadn't cared for a woman since Sha're died.

_That_ made him blink at his salad. He couldn't say that he loved Rebekah, not by a long shot. But he was on his way to that if he didn't step back. He knew himself, and he'd been so careful in protecting himself from ever being hurt the way that he was with Sha're's capture by Amaunet and her eventual death. Yes, he'd had the rare moment where he was attracted to one woman or another. But none of them had been allowed to get under his skin the way Sha're—and, now, Rebekah—had.

Sighing deeply, Daniel finished his dinner and trudged back to the waiting room. Ever since the team bar-b-que last week, where Rebekah showed up sporting a whole new look that had left him feeling like a kid with a crush, he'd known that he couldn't keep up the whole "just friends" routine. But taking their friendship from there to dating to the realm of building a long-term relationship. . . .Daniel shook his head to clear his thoughts and settled into a corner of the still-empty waiting room. He knew that he should pull away, that it was dangerous on a deeply emotional scale to get so involved with Rebekah. But another part of him, the part that had been lonely for so long and had finally been allowed to escape in recent weeks, wouldn't let him do that. Rebekah was too important to him, and he let out a deep breath as he realized that there would be no going back from this moment.

~~O~~

Cam Mitchell pushed open the door to the surgical waiting room and found Jackson by himself. No one else was there, and he'd already tried to get in touch with Marina. Her cell was either off or out of service range because she never answered. He'd left a message, stating she needed to call him as soon as was humanly possible. Meanwhile, Cam decided to check in at the hospital, and he'd been unable to keep Teal'c and Vala, who had returned from the Land of Light as soon as she found out Rebekah had been injured, from tagging along. Those two slowly followed him through the door and froze as they took in the sight before them.

Jackson sat in the darkest corner of the room, elbows braced on his knees as his glasses dangled from his fingertips. His head came up suddenly, but he wasn't quite able to hide the turmoil quick enough. He slipped his glasses back on his face as he straightened. "Hey, guys."

Cam headed for the couch nearby. "Hey. How you holdin' up?"

"Oh, fine." Jackson accepted the hug from Vala and nodded at Teal'c. "She's been in surgery for the last two hours. I'm kind of hoping to hear something soon."

Vala settled on the arm of Jackson's chair, her hand on his shoulder. "Well, from what I can tell, Rebekah's a strong girl. She'll pull through this."

Jackson gave her a strange look. "Yeah, I'm sure she will."

Vala frowned. "What?" She stood and glared at him. "You didn't think I'd care what happened with her?"

"No, I'm just surprised you're so adamant about it. And that you're _here_."

"Daniel, you care about her. And, after last week, she's part of the family. Get used to it." Vala started strolling the room, poking through cabinets and at the empty coffee pot in her typical manner. "Besides, when I dialed in for my daily check-in, General Landry told me what happened. I figured I'd come and be supportive."

Cam grinned. "She's right. The moment you invited her to your place and let slip that you're seein' her, she became part of this group." He paused as Jackson nodded. "And I managed to get ahold of the police report."

That brought even Vala's head around. "What did it say?"

Cam kept his eyes on Jackson, knowing it wouldn't be easy to hear what he had to say. "That Rebekah's lucky she got out with just cuts, bruises, and a broken leg."

Jackson blinked a few times and then dropped his head. "Yeah, that's the impression I got. She told me she was broadsided but wasn't too clear on the details."

"Ford F-350 ran a red light." Cam's voice softened. "Her car is toast, and it took a while to get her out. That's why it was late afternoon when you got the call."

Jackson winced. It wasn't visible to anyone save those who knew him well, but it told the trio of people there to support him just what Rebekah meant to him. "Any news on the driver of the truck?"

"He's okay but a bit shaken up." Cam sighed. "As much as I'd love for there to be somethin' more to this, it honestly looks like a simple case of someone not paying enough attention. He's already been ticketed, and the choice will be up to Rebekah to press charges or not. As it is, he's taking full responsibility and payin' for everything. Insurance and all that."

"Oh, that's good." Jackson's dry comment told everyone he was coping the way he typically coped: by staying cool until he was alone. "What did Landry say after I left?"

"Take all the time you need." Cam grinned. "He also said he's glad you're getting out of the mountain again, though he'd like for it to be for something more than a visit to your girlfriend in the hospital."

"She's not my. . . ." Jackson clearly saw the futility in arguing when Teal'c raised an eyebrow and clamped down on what else he was planning to say. "Rebekah doesn't have family in town, and she never said anything about Marina leaving town. I'm probably going to take some time off to help her through this."

"I figured." Cam nodded. "Take the time you need. SG-1 has been put back on stand down, and Landry's letting me handle the McKay thing."

"I can still help with the investigation. What I was doing wasn't necessarily classified, and Rebekah understands confidentiality on the job."

"We'll talk about that later." Cam glanced around. "I'm goin' for coffee. Anyone need anything?"

Three different answers bombarded him, and Cam grinned. His team was nothing if not predictable when it came to coffee. Teal'c preferred tea and so declined his offer. Vala loved overly sweet drinks like lattes and cappuccinos. And Jackson stuck with his Sumatra Mandehling. Happy to be doing something, Cam headed out the door. He had to stop himself from checking his phone for any missed calls or text messages from Marina. He knew she would hear the tension in his voice from the voicemail he'd left and be worried. He decided to have enough information to keep her calm when she did call and returned to the hospital with the promised coffee. The room fell silent after the inevitable "thank yous," and he settled into the couch to finish waiting.

~~O~~

Dr. Thompson came to the waiting room when he finally finished the surgery and frowned at the small group sitting quietly in one corner. The television was on but muted as Vala flipped through the channels. Teal'c appeared to be sleeping sitting up, and Mitchell had picked up a magazine. Daniel stood when he saw the doctor.

Thompson peered at the three men. "Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel waved a hand. "Daniel, please."

Thompson nodded. "Ms. Jacobs is out of recovery and able to have a visitor."

"How is she?"

"Good." The doctor met his eyes. "I won't lie, Daniel. The surgery was pretty major, and she's going to lose most of her mobility. But she should make a full recovery with time and physical therapy."

Daniel nodded. "That's good. When can I see her?"

Thompson smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Since I know Ms. Jacobs has no family in the area and her only point of contact is unreachable, I'll allow you to sit with her. But the specifics of her condition will have to be kept confidential unless she gives her express permission. Right now, she's a bit too sedated for that."

Daniel accepted that and glanced at the three people behind him. "Listen, guys, I'll probably be here all night."

Mitchell shrugged. "I'll keep tryin' to contact Marina."

"Thanks." Daniel followed the doctor, hands in his pockets as he went. "Did you give her morphine for pain?"

"Uh, no." Thompson grinned. "Marcia overheard that little conversation Ms. Jacobs had with you, and we switched her medications."

"Good." Daniel remained silent until he was shown into Rebekah's room. Her leg was in traction, the bandages and swelling making it seem three times the size it should have been. She appeared to be sleeping, and the beeping monitors made him think about the times he or a member of his team had been stuck in the infirmary. The difference was that he'd never sat beside the hospital bed of a woman who meant as much to him as Rebekah did. Moving to her side, he ran his fingers through her hair and smiled when she stirred. Her green eyes cracked open slightly, and he let the back of his hand brush her cheek. "Hey, there."

"Daniel?" She blinked owlishly at him, licking her lips. "You're here. . .thought I was dreaming. . . ."

"I told you I would be." Daniel reached for the cup of ice chips and fed a couple to her. She scowled when her eyes rolled back into her head. He smiled at that. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Rebekah nodded and, after another moment, drifted back to sleep. Daniel quietly moved the comfortable chair closer to her bed and settled in it, finding that it reclined to form something of a bed. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle, as he studied Rebekah's face. Twice that day, he'd almost called her _Habibati_, his personal endearment for Sha're. It meant "beloved" in Egyptian, and he'd been more than comfortable using it for his wife. But Rebekah needed her own endearment, that special name that made him think of her and only her. Given all the languages he spoke, he should be able to come up with something.

He was still mulling over the situation when a nurse came in to check Rebekah's vitals an hour later.

~~O~~

Outside the hospital room door, another nurse stood and stared at the couple inside. Rebekah looked utterly miserable with those cuts and that elevated leg, but Daniel didn't see any of that. He stared at her as if she were the most precious thing on this Earth. And maybe she was.

Turning away from the heartwrenching scene, the nurse made her way past the nurses' station and out the door. She'd done all she could for Rebekah. It was up to the man sitting vigil at her bedside.

~TBC


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Our hearts and prayers go out to the victims of the Aurora, Colorado movie theater shooting and their families. God bless!

~lg and Ice

**Illusions**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Rodney and Jennifer hadn't left their floor aside from a few odd occasions, so today, at the urging of their friends, the group went out for a meal. Though the mood had started somber, Chuck kept them entertained with stories of his childhood growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia with his much older siblings and cousins.

Chuck had just finished telling them about attending a mansion party at the tender age of seventeen-it was his birthday-just days before leaving home to attend university. He and his friends had been stopped by the police while walking home. They'd left their vehicle somewhere they couldn't remember and were too drunk to drive so they didn't really care. The police took them home to be turned over to their parents because the cops had given them all breathalyzer tests and determined that they should all be comatose.

Everyone was laughing so hard they could barely keep their seats, until several uninvited guests arrived.

"Good to see you can laugh considering the situation, Dr. McKay." Gin Stevens addressed the group, her partner and several uniformed officers standing quietly behind her. Only Woolsey and Marjorie were missing.

Rodney started to make an angry retort but stopped when Jennifer took his hand. "Let John handle it, honey."

"Do something for you, detectives?" John felt his friends tense up, the lighthearted atmosphere evaporating.

A small rueful smile played over Gin's lips. "It's what _we_ can do for _you_, Colonel Sheppard. Or rather what we can do for Dr. McKay."

"And that is…"

"We have a witness. She says McKay was nowhere around when Kavanagh was killed." The groan of relief that came from Rodney was echoed by his wife and friends.

"This witness, did she see who did it?" This question came from Amelia.

"She did indeed, Sergeant." Jase nodded to the uniformed officers. Two moved to stand behind Jennifer and the other two behind Amanda. "Dr. Cole and Dr. Keller, please stand."

The two women did so, confusion and disbelief on both their faces as their friends got to their feet protesting loudly, John and Rodney the loudest of all.

Heedless of the objections, Jase continued reading their Miranda right. "Dr. Jennifer Keller and Dr. Amanda Cole, you are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Peter Kavanagh…" The cuffs were snapped around the women's wrists and, just like the night of the reception, the restaurant patrons looked on with undisguised curiosity as Jennifer and Amanda were led away.

John and Rodney rushed forward, John blocking Jase, Gin and the cops from leaving. "What's going on here? First McKay and now Cole and Keller? What kind of investigation are you running?"

"Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay was arrested based on circumstantial evidence and witness reports of the very public fight he had with the deceased."

Gin took over from her partner. "This time, we're going according to physical evidence that proves they conspired to kill the Kavanagh."

John didn't like that explanation and said so. "They have alibis. The women were at a spa together. Surely someone saw them."

"Oh, yes. They were seen by staff and guests all the way up until the mud baths. It seems that instead of the usual forty-five minutes, Keller and Cole paid for ninety so they were taken to a separate room from Sergeant Mehra and Ms. Emmagan. At one point, the attendant peeked in to check on them and both were gone. The attendant searched the facility but couldn't find them. Twenty minutes later, they showed up as if nothing untoward had happened saying they'd stepped out to go to the ladies room. There are two problems with that scenario. Before leaving the mud baths, you have to shower off the mud. Plus all of the bathrooms were checked."

Jase picked up the thread. "The spa is less than ten minutes from the hotel where Dr. Kavanagh was killed. Our background check of Dr. Cole indicates that she has the necessary computer skills to fool the surveillance cameras into thinking that the stairwells were empty instead of what was really happening. That your girlfriend and McKay's then fiancée were injecting Kavanagh with a massive dose of insulin in order to bring about his death at their hands. And being medical doctors, they would know how much insulin was needed as well as access to the medications."

Teyla stepped forward. "It is true that Jennifer had reason to dislike Kavanagh, but so did the rest of us. Jennifer and Amanda are _doctors_, healers. They would not do what you are accusing them of, Detective Stevens. Not just because they are doctors, but because they are not capable of taking another's life out of spite or meanness or hatred."

"Dr. Keller was probably getting revenge for the fight Kavanagh had with her husband. I admit we haven't found a motive for Cole. At least not yet." Gin shrugged. "It could be as simple as one friend helping another. But we'll find it. We always do." Without another word, the detectives left in the wake of the uniforms leaving the Lanteans stunned once again. What they didn't see was Gin stopping at the entrance and casting a sad glance over her shoulder before following her partner.

~~O~~

Flipping through the paperwork and evidence on the Kavanagh case, Araceli frowned at her signature scrawled at the bottom of each page and on the evidence bags. Yes, that was her signature. But she hadn't been the one to "collect" the samples or run the tests or complete the autopsy though she did make a good show of it. She examined the organs, weighed them, all those little things that go into completing an autopsy. It was also her voice on the recording, though she'd read from a script that had been given to her.

Every time she thought about quitting, she remembered their threats against her and her son, though their verbiage was ambiguous enough that an outside observer would not know a threat had even been made. To others, it would sound like they were merely having a disagreement over something innocuous.

It made her ill to think about being physically intimate with anyone in that organization. There was nothing to do but keep going, keep pushing onward. She had no family and her son's father was out of the picture. If she couldn't take care for her son, he'd become a ward of the court, left to the overworked and underpaid Child Protective Services. She'd seen what could happen to those kids and didn't want it to happen to her son.

Her phone rang and she rushed to answer it. "Velasquez. Oh, hi honey."

"_Mo-om! Don't call me that when you're on speaker phone. Someone might hear!_"

His outrage made her smile though she kept it from her voice. "Sorry. What's up, _Phillip?_"

An exasperated huff came through the phone. "_Julio's havin' a sleepover. Frankie and Des are gonna be there. Can I go?_" The last word ended on a small squeak. A signal that his voice was changing. Her son was growing up so fast.

Right then she made a vow. As soon as he went off to college she would get out of the mess she was in. She wasn't sure how, but she'd find a way. Maybe go to someone in the government. Exchange testimony for freedom or witness protection. "Sure. Homework and walk Boomer first."

"_Deal! Bye!_"

~~O~~

"Woolsey's working on transferring McKay's bail to Keller and Cole. Not having much success." John sat alone in the room he'd been sharing with Amanda the last few nights. He hated sneaking around, but this part of their relationship was new and untried for both of them. When they were certain that their feelings for each other were the forever sort, then they would bring it out into the open. Somehow, his mind had completely forgotten about the night Rodney had been arrested when he'd taken her in his arms for comfort.

"_That sucks, Sheppard._" Cam Mitchell's voice echoed into the room from the speaker phone. "_Anything we can do from here? Jackson's already going over the info you sent us._"

"Any idea who might be behind this? The docs didn't do it anymore than McKay did."

A chuckle followed by a crunch with Cam talking around the food in his mouth. "_Maybe it's the Trust. __You know, they don't like us very much. They've tried takin' us down all at once and it didn't work. So maybe they're starting with our weakest link.__"_

"Yeah, well they don't know McKay if they think he's the weakest link." What Cam said sparked an idea. "Good talk, Mitchell. Later." He hung up, shoved the phone into his back pocket then headed for the door and from there to the command center. Better known as Woolsey's room. He knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation. Marjorie and Woolsey were going over the newest information from the LVPD. Thanks to his call to O'Neill it came to them immediately instead of when the detectives thought they should get it. "Woolsey."

Marjorie stood, hooked her purse over one shoulder and picked up her briefcase. "I know that tone, Colonel. I have to go anyway." She gave the men a sickly sweet smile and left them alone.

The door closed and John slipped into the vacated seat. "Learns fast, doesn't she?"

"Indeed. The arraignment is in a few minutes. Dr. Cole and Dr. Keller will be back with us before long."

"Good to know, but that's not why I'm here."

"Go on."

"The Trust."

Woolsey nearly groaned in frustration, tossed his pen on the table and rubbed his eyes. "And I was just wondering how this case could get even more complicated."

John snorted. "With the Trust involved, how could it not be?" He got up and started pacing. "What do they want? What twisted purpose could it serve to have McKay, Keller and Cole in jail suspected of Kavanagh's murder?"

Woolsey went to get another cup of coffee then stared out the window. "They've made no secret of their ambition to take over the SGC and use it to further their nefarious plans to…"

"Take over the known universe?" That remark set off a long debate about the ultimate goals of the Trust. When the two men ran out of ideas, John asked, "But how can Cole and Keller going to prison help?"

Turning from the window, Woolsey sipped from the cup, setting it carefully back in the saucer before responding. "Perhaps it's to get under yours and McKay's skin enough that you'd do anything to save the women you…care about." John looked away, his confident grin suddenly awkward and shy bringing a wry smile to the older man's lined face. "Or are you going to continue to deny your feelings for Dr. Cole?"

"I, uh, no." To avoid looking at Woolsey, John poured himself coffee he didn't want. "How did you…"

"It doesn't matter. The point is she needs to know how you feel and that you'll stand beside her no matter what. Especially now."

"She knows."

"You told her?" Woolsey turned from his contemplation of the street below.

"Not in so many words, no." Still John wouldn't let his eyes meet Woolsey's. "Next thing you're gonna say is I should tell her how I feel. Not really good at that and wouldn't want her to think I'm saying it because…"

"Saying what, John?"

John was on his feet so fast he knocked the chair over. The door was open and standing just inside was Marjorie, Jennifer and… "Amanda."

Nodding to Jennifer and the attorney, Woolsey indicated that they should go. John and Amanda faced each other in the middle of the room, Amanda glancing over her shoulder when the door closed then back to John. "So…miss me?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

One side of his mouth twitched upward as he took a step. And another and another until all he had to do was reach out and touch her. So he did letting his fingers push gently into the hair at her temple and behind her ear. His thumb grazed the skin of her cheek and her eyes drifted shut on a sigh. Her hands touched his waist as his other hand took up a similar position on the opposite side. Leaning toward each other, their lips touched.

~~O~~

The meeting broke up, Eddie and Carlos heading out without as much as a smile and as she'd done to Chuck that first time, he texted Emma.

_Java Hut on Las Cruses. _

Using just her right thumb, Emma typed her response. _What about Mocha Café?_

His response came quickly. _Mixing it up. 20 minutes. Don't be late._

_Can't. No time._

_Make time. Important._

She huffed, the sound drowned out by the noise of the city. _Fine_.

_Be there or be square. And get ME a latte. ;-)_

This time, Chuck was waiting for her. She bought him a Cinnamon Dolce Latte and a Caramel Macchiato for herself.

He'd chosen a table in the corner so they both could sit with their backs to walls and still see the entrance. Setting the girly drink in front of him, she slid into the seat to his right. To stall, she took a long sip of her drink then made a big show of setting it in the exact center of the napkin.

"I'll start." Instead of the pleasant smile he normally sported, Chuck's expression was solemn. "We know you're working for the Trust."

Though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach, Emma covered her reaction by taking another sip. "I supposed it would be useless to deny it."

"It would. One question. Why?"

"Why join a group whose purpose appears to be the subversion of the American way of life?"

"Yes."

Chuck watched her without blinking and Emma resisted the urge to squirm. "The usual cliché reason. My fiancé died."

"I see." Taking out that fancy phone of his, he scrolled through the apps until he came to what he wanted. "Jonah Watson, dead at the age of twenty-five from a GSW to the head, killed during a carjacking."

"They came along when I was depressed, vulnerable. Knew the right thing to say at the right time to give me a new purpose. The down side is, once you're in, there's no getting out. At least not alive."

Chuck twisted his cup. "My superiors wanted me to arrest you immediately."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I gave them an alternative. We'd like for you to help us bring them down." His expression turned thoughtful as he reached up and scratched his ear while she thought over his offer.

"If I do, I need assurances."

"What kind of assurances?"

"I want out. And immunity for everything they forced me to do."

"You got it."

She nodded once accepting his condition. "How we gonna do this?"

"We're still working out the details." Chuck tipped his cup back, finished off his coffee and stood when Emma did. "Thanks for the latte. We'll keep in touch."

Impulsively, she gave him a quick hug, whispering in his ear. "Doesn't your wife trust you?"

"Sorry?"

"That's her sitting with the fella who was watching the other day, right?"

He chuckled. "She knows who's first in my heart. And that _fella_ is my CO."

With a wicked grin, she finished off her coffee, tossed the cup and left the store without looking back or even glancing at the man and woman in the corner.

~~O~~

Carrying his cup, Chuck went to sit with John and Amelia. John had decided that since Emma already knew she was being watched, why hide it? Sliding into the seat next to Amelia, he waited for John to voice his opinion of what had just transpired. Amelia picked up his cup frowning when she realized it was empty.

"I'll get one of our people on it. With O'Neill's help, we're able to get anything we want from the LVPD."

Chuck sighed in relief. "Say, Colonel. Where's Dr. Beckett? I'd've thought he'd be here giving Dr. McKay moral support."

"He's had some…family issues to deal with. I'll give him a call. If he can't help we'll work something else out."

"How we gonna do this, Colonel?" Amelia asked.

"We'll arrange a meet with this Emma after Ms. Warlock goes home." John looked at him and Chuck knew it would be up to him to work out the details.

Taking out his phone, Chuck called up the info they'd located on their new contact. "Emma's real name is Christina Emberson. She grew up in Enterprise, moved to Las Vegas after she dropped out of university and began plying her trade as a grifter to pay off the debts her parents left when they were killed in a car accident."

"Busy girl. Tonight. Twenty-one hundred in Woolsey's room. Make the call."

"Yes, sir."

**LVPD Medical Examiner's Office**

Outside the autopsy room, Araceli could hear the footsteps and voices of the rest of the day staff going about their daily routine. Though for her, it was anything but routine. She hadn't slept the past few nights thinking about the fact that now the focus of the Kavanagh case has switched from McKay to the two medical doctors. Going over the evidence hadn't brought her any answers for how to help them get out of their situation, but there had to be something.

Too tired to think about it now, she picked up her purse and laptop bag, shut off her work computer and left for home. On the way, she called Chang's to have dinner delivered to her home. Phillip was gone again so she would be on her own.

At home, she tossed her things on the bed, stripping her clothes off as she went into the bathroom. Not normally so careless with her clothing, she reasoned that it no longer mattered and left them lay.

When she'd finished her shower and washing her hair, she wrapped herself in a thick terrycloth robe and carried her laptop to the den. She towel dried her hair while the computer powered up then began looking for a way to get out of the mess she found herself in.

Araceli scrolled through so many websites she'd lost count. Then there it was. Her idea for getting Stevens and Maguire to start looking somewhere else for the murderer. Now all she had to do was get someone else to "discover" it so there wouldn't be any questions. The solution came to her like a bolt out of the blue. Hurrying to the bedroom, she dug her cell from her purse, scrolled her contact list until she found the name she wanted. "Harvey? Araceli. How are classes going? That's great…Say, you still want some on-the-job experience?" She breathed deeply to keep the excitement out of her voice. "The Kavanagh case…Compare the trace DNA from the crime scene to the samples we took the day Keller and Cole were arrested…No, I just want you to get some experience with DNA comparisons…Yes…Thanks. And Harvey? This is just between you and me…I'll turn you into a CSI sooner or later…Thanks. Night."

**Woolsey's Room**

**2100 Hours**

The elevator dinged, Emma got out and turned left checking room numbers until she came to the one she wanted. Standing with her fist upraised, she paused to think over what she was about to do. If the others found out she was here, she had no doubt that her dead body would end up on a slab in the morgue. Of course that was always a possibility even if she continued to do those dirty little jobs they "requested" she do. Well, she didn't want to do it anymore. That's why she was here. That and Chuck's boss might change his mind and have her arrested if she didn't.

She steeled herself and knocked. The door was opened by the woman who had been in the coffee shop. Stepping into the room, she took in the faces of the people around her, stopping on Chuck. More at ease with him than the others, she was relieved when he gestured her to a chair.

Starting with his boss, Chuck made introductions around the room. "Mr. Woolsey, Colonel Sheppard, Teyla, Colonel Lorne, Dr. McKay, Dr. Keller, Dr. Cole, Dr. McKay's sister, Ms. Miller, Sergeant Mehra, Ronon," when he got to the last occupant of the room, his smile softened, "and this is Amelia Banks. Uh, Sergeant Banks. Everyone, this is Emma."

Summoning as much bravado as possible, she nodded hello to each, her smile fading just a little at Ronon's imposing nature. It was easy to see how infatuated Chuck and Amelia were with each other. Sheppard and Cole were a new couple as were Teyla and Lorne. Ronon and Mehra, and McKay and Keller had been couples for a while.

John pushed off the wall he'd been holding up, retrieved a root beer from the minibar, twisted the top off and handed it to her. "Tell us how you got involved with the Trust."

Emma laughed at the absurdity of the situation and her life. "It's the kind of story they make TV movies week about starring a has-been actress trying to make a come-back.

"After my fiancé died, I dropped out of college and just drifted, not sure what to do." She chuckled. "I discovered I had a talent for reading people so I moved to Las Vegas and, I guess you could say I became self-employed, though the government didn't know about it. I had friends, but no family. Then a friend of a friend recruited me for some special project. So I went…"

**Several Years Ago**

Emma looked around the crowded meeting hall not seeing her friend. Well, she wasn't exactly a friend. More of an acquaintance. Spotting a familiar head of dark hair, she weaved through the crowd to her side. They'd already been warned not to use their real names so she just tapped her on the shoulder. "Hi."

"Hey! You made it." Her smile brightened. "What do you think so far?"

"The food's good. I guess someone finally figured out if you feed them, they will come." Watching the other woman turn to talk to another attendee, Emma noticed that her companion had cut her hair, the dark curls that had bounced and swirled around her shoulder blades were gone. She had eyes the color of blue most women would kill for and a cheeky grin drew men like moths to a flame.

"Yeah. I didn't know there'd be so many. Let's find seats up close so we can hear."

Emma would've preferred to sit in the back where she could go unnoticed, but her companion took her hand and dragged her through the crowd to a table on the right, third from the front. A folder lay in front of each seat. They'd been instructed not to open them until told to by the speaker.

Eventually the crowd found seats and the noise abated somewhat then stopped completely when a man walked to the podium. He was average all around. If Emma had met him in the grocery store or in line at the movies she would've forgotten him a few minutes later.

"Thank you all for coming. There are a few rules we have to go over before we begin the briefing."

_Briefing? What's he talking about? I thought…_

"Each of you will be given a code name that you will use when meeting with your handlers or other members of your cell."

_What the hell?_

"Remember, we will contact you when your specific skills and talents are required for a particular assignment. And you are _not_, under any circumstances, permitted to engage in an intimate relationship with another member of your cell or you will be removed."

_Removed? What does that mean? Fired? Or worse? What did she get me into?_

"Our primary goal is to protect the American way of life against all threats, internal or external."

_Isn't that what we have the military for?_

"Open your folders and turn to page one…"

**Present**

"He kept saying it was our patriotic duty. That we'd be stopping terrorists before another 9/11 can happen. Said we'd change the world, that we'd be hailed as heroes." Emma took deep breath. Once she got started, telling the story wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. "I didn't know what to do without him. Without Jonah. They just drew me in. Of course, by that time it was too late to back out." Meeting each of the faces, she silently pleaded with them. "I want out and Chuck said you can help me do that."

"Emma," John started, interrupted by a banging on the door. He nodded and Ronon stuck his eye to the peephole.

"It's those detectives."

Marjorie walked to John's side. "What could they possibly want this time of night?"

Rodney wrapped his arm around Jennifer while she grabbed his other hand tightly. Teyla took Amanda's hand to provide comfort.

With a shrug, John nodded again and Ronon opened the door. Stevens and Maguire pushed past Ronon into the middle of the room. "I'm glad you're all here. We won't have to roust everyone out of bed."

John glared at the detectives. "Who are you here to arrest this time?"

"No one." Gin took an angry step forward both hands clenched at her sides. "I want to know what the _hell_ is going on."

"I'm sorry?"

Maguire laid a hand on his partner's shoulder, the touch reminding her to cool her temper. "We just received an update on the trace DNA from the crime scene."

John looked as startled as the rest of them. "And?"

Again Gin shot her glare around the room, settling on Rodney, Jennifer and Amanda. "One of our interns took it upon himself to test the samples we collected from the crime scene against those we took when we booked McKay, Keller and Cole. The DNA from the scene is six to twelve months old."

"Which means?"

Jennifer finally spoke up, her voice tight with anger. "It means someone planted it."

"Yeah." Gin planted her feet shoulder width apart. "So again I ask, what the _hell_ is going on? Why would someone want to frame any of you for Kavanagh's murder?"

**TBC**

**A/N:** The anecdote that Chuck recounts is something that actually happened to a friend of mine. I'm sure he won't mind me borrowing it. I would've been sick for days, but he apparently didn't even have a hangover the next day.

Thanks, LoneRanger1.

~Sandy


	15. Chapter 14

"Daniel?" The soft call woke him. He blinked at the bed and then jumped to his feet. Rebekah frowned as the book that had been lying on his chest hit the floor.

"Hey." He carefully took her hand. "How are you?"

"I hurt."

Daniel grinned at that. He understood the fogginess that came with powerful pain medication and recent surgery. Reaching over to press the button that called a nurse, he nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Rebekah narrowed her eyes at him as if to ask how he knew, but the nurse arrived before she could say anything. Rebekah endured the checks, questions, and additional pain medication in her IV while clinging to Daniel's hand. She seemed a bit hesitant to even go back to sleep. Of course, she couldn't fight forever. Once she fully relaxed, Daniel moved back to his chair and picked up the book he'd been reading. His journal with his story lay nearby, a pen marking his place.

Getting that call from Rebekah had shaken him, and he knew what that emotional reaction meant. Rebekah wasn't just a woman he was dating. She meant as much to him as any other woman he'd loved. Straightening suddenly, Daniel whirled and stared at her. How had he gone from not sure if he loved her just the night before to certain that his heart would be as broken by her death as it had been by Sha're's? Sometime in that time, he had _decided_ that Rebekah needed someone to love her, but he hadn't committed to being that man. Had he?

Dropping back into his chair, Daniel rubbed his face and considered his options. He could withdraw from Rebekah or follow the course his feet had found. If he withdrew at all, it would crush her. But could he handle loving another woman like he'd loved Sha're? After all these years, he knew it was easier to be alone than to risk losing anyone else. He'd come close to giving his heart away again with Sarah Gardner and with Janet Frasier. Sarah had disappeared after her rescue from Osiris, and Janet had died. It seemed that every woman he loved died. Did he want to put himself—not to mention Rebekah—in that position? Staring at her sleeping face, cuts and bruises marring her pixie-ish appearance, he knew he couldn't pull away from her. She meant too much to him as a friend to think about hurting her. If they went their separate ways romantically, it would be _their_ decision, not just his.

Not fully at peace with his decision, Daniel leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He watched Rebekah sleep until his own eyes became heavy. They closed as a shadow wandered past the door and glanced inside. In the hallway, a nurse smiled at the picture they made and went about her business.

~~O~~

Three days later, Rebekah went home. Daniel pushed her wheelchair into the elevator in her apartment building and pressed the button for her floor. She wasn't in the best of moods since she'd just discovered that her beloved car had been cut open to get her out of it. Up until that point, she'd believed that she could repair the damage even if the car was officially totaled. Knowing it was in pieces crushed her semi-happy attitude. Daniel grinned behind her, enjoying how she fussed at everything and everyone. While he didn't want to be the object of her frustration, he also found it endearing to see her glare so menacingly at the sweet lady who managed the desk in her apartment building.

_You're twisted if you think that's endearing_, he thought. _Of course, you think almost everything she does is endearing, so there's no surprise there_. Rolling his eyes at himself, Daniel allowed Rebekah to wrestle her own front door open. She was still doped up on a lot of medication and had been released from the hospital with the understanding that she would not be alone at all for at least the first twenty-four hours. Mitchell still couldn't reach Marina, and Daniel agreed to stay with Rebekah until Marina returned home. Since SG-1 had no off-world missions scheduled, Landry had cleared him to bring his research "home" as long as it didn't reveal the existence of the Stargate. Daniel looked forward to a different setting and helping Rebekah even if she didn't want to be helped.

Once in her apartment, she pointed at the couch. Daniel had already come over and set up her sofa with lots of pillows so she could be comfortable during her recovery. Pushing the wheelchair to the sofa sleeper, he helped Rebekah get comfortable and propped up on the abundance of pillows. With a table nearby, she would have access to any and everything she'd need except for the bathroom or food. The doctors had given her a walker for her very brief trips to the bathroom, and Daniel intended to see that she wasn't up and about looking for food or for other unimportant reasons.

Going over the doctor's orders in his head and seeing the way Rebekah glared at her surroundings, Daniel knew this would be a tough job. Rebekah was to keep all weight off her leg for at least four more weeks. In two weeks, the doctor would consider crutches depending on her progress. But two weeks with only a wheelchair and walker to get around and a boyfriend to wait on her hand and foot. . . .Rebekah might care deeply for Daniel, but she was independent and accustomed to doing things for herself. She'd get tired of being "helpless" pretty quickly.

A knock on the door broke into Daniel's thoughts. He glanced at Rebekah and saw the curiosity on her face as he answered the knock. Mitchell, Teal'c and Vala stood just outside, arms loaded down with take-out food and movies. Daniel let them in, watching as Vala bounced directly across the room to engage Rebekah in "girl talk." Before long, she had Rebekah smiling and laughing.

Mitchell carried the take-out to the small round table near the kitchen. "How's she doing?"

"Cranky." Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets and gave Mitchell a sarcastic grin. "She's bed-bound for at least two weeks, if not longer, and her best friend is incommunicado."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, scrunching up the beanie he wore to cover his gold tattoo. "Have you still not heard from Marina Guerrero, Colonel Mitchell?"

Mitchell shook his head. "I'm beginning to wonder if Marina and Rebekah were targeted for some reason."

"Why?" Daniel shrugged. "Rebekah works for a bank in the mortgage department, dealing with people going through bankruptcy."

"Maybe one of them has something out for her, but that doesn't explain Marina." Mitchell frowned. "Wait. Marina works in the same building; that's how they met."

"There might be something or someone there who wants both of them out of the picture for some reason," Daniel replied.

"That doesn't happen as often as television and movies makes you think , but I'll look into it." Mitchell pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialing.

Teal'c, who had merely been looking back and forth between the two men, lifted his chin. "I will remain here with you, Daniel Jackson. If someone has indeed targeted Rebekah Jacobs, she may need protection."

Daniel glanced over to where Vala and Rebekah now talked quietly and seriously about something. "I'll keep that in mind, Teal'c. But for now, I'd like to just work on the case in Las Vegas while we can. Help Mitchell with that."

Teal'c dipped his chin in acknowledgment, but Daniel could see he wasn't happy. Years ago, after Sha're's abduction, Teal'c had sworn to protect and help Daniel. He still took that oath seriously though times and their lives had changed. Daniel appreciated the thought behind it, but he also knew he had grown considerably in those years. He was capable of holding his own against an intruder should Rebekah have been targeted.

Mitchell returned, and the three men joined the two women. Due to the medications she was on, Rebekah grew tired easily. Daniel ushered her guests to the door, thanked them for coming, and then settled at the dining table with his composition book. Rebekah fell asleep as he wrote the next scene in his story about Derek and Valerie.

~~O~~

For the next week, Daniel and Rebekah learned more about one another than they'd thought possible this early in their relationship. Most days, she loved having him around, but she also got frustrated with her lack of mobility. For a woman accustomed to living and surviving on her own, needing Daniel's help just to use the restroom stung. Granted, he always gave her space when she needed it, but her dependency on others cut deeply. She was still thankful that she had him around, especially since Marina hadn't returned her phone calls, either.

Rebekah glared at her laptop screen, wishing her muse would return and let her write something. _Anything!_ She'd made such good progress on her original novel that not being able to write—or focus on much of anything around the powerful pain killers—really left her feeling out of sorts. During that week, Cam Mitchell, Murray, and Vala dropped by on a regular basis, breaking the monotony of watching too much TV and staring at the walls in boredom. Mitchell brought files for Daniel to go through, saying he'd called a friend to look into something. Knowing it was likely classified, Rebekah didn't ask.

At the end of her first full week home, Rebekah glanced up from her journal when someone knocked on the door. Daniel, who had spread a massive amount of paperwork over her table, frowned as he went to answer the door. He straightened suddenly and stepped back as Marina blustered into the room. She headed straight for Rebekah as Daniel moved to close all of the open files.

Marina carefully settled on the edge of the couch. "Oh, my God! Rebekah, I'm so sorry I wasn't here!" She hugged her friend. "What happened?"

"Ford truck ran a red light." Rebekah rolled her eyes. "I was unlucky enough to be in the intersection when he did. Where on earth have you been?"

"You know my Aunt Delores?"

"The one who raised you?"

"Yeah." Marina nodded. "She had a heart attack the night before. I caught the first plane out of Denver I could get and, in the rush, forgot my cell phone at home."

Rebekah blinked at her friend. "_You_ forgot your cell phone? I find that hard to believe."

"I know, right!" Marina grinned at that.

"How is your Aunt Delores?"

"She's good." Marina nodded. "It was touch-and-go there for a bit, but she'll recover."

"No lasting effects?"

"A few. But she's got home health care there now. She insisted I come home, and that's when I found dozens of calls from Cam." Glancing over to where Daniel now puttered around the kitchen, she lowered her voice. "How are things going here?"

Rebekah grinned. "Kind of nice, but don't tell him I said that."

In the kitchen, Daniel grinned. "I can hear you."

"I know." Rebekah returned the cheeky grin and then sobered. "Honestly, Marina, this is driving me insane. I can't even get up and go to the bathroom by myself. The doctor says it'll be at least another week before I can think about being up and about for longer than five minutes, even longer than that before I'm able to drive or walk or do anything. They're talking about physical therapy and such. Not to mention needing a new car."

"Ouch." Marina frowned. "I wish I could take the time off to stay with you during the day, but I can't. I can come over and distract you in the evenings."

Rebekah laughed. "That would be great."

"Good." Marina moved around to the other side of the couch and climbed onto the bed to sit next to Rebekah. "Now, what are you working on?"

The two girls stayed that way for several hours, seemingly unaware that Daniel was even in the room. By the time Marina left, Rebekah felt more at peace than she had in a long time. Her best friend was okay, her boyfriend close, and her life would get better. She just needed to get past the little hiccup that nearly claimed her life.

~~O~~

After Marina's return, things settled into a pattern. Daniel stayed with Rebekah during the day, resulting in some intense discussions about characters, life, and politics. Daniel learned that Rebekah liked to debate simply for the sake of it, and he enjoyed her quick mind and even quicker wit. Her hesitant nature fell to the side after that first week, and he felt as if he'd seen under the mask she put on with others.

In the evenings, Marina came over and spent the night. Marina insisted Daniel stick around for dinner and then waved him off with a sparkle in her eyes and a smart-aleck remark. During those evenings, he went to the SGC and took care of work that had begun to pile up. Rebekah often told him that he worked too hard, but Daniel didn't know any other way. If he allowed himself a moment's peace, he'd realize that he wanted a life with Rebekah. While he liked the idea of falling asleep next to her and waking with her beside him, he still had that undeniable fear that committing to a life with her put her in mortal danger.

"Hey, Jackson!" Mitchell's voice interrupted Daniel's thoughts as he wandered through the SGC with his nose stuck in a file just so no one would question him.

Daniel blinked at his team leader. "Yeah?"

Mitchell grabbed his arm. "Thought of somethin'." He pulled Daniel out of the center of the corridor and lowered his voice. "A few days ago, I was talkin' to Sheppard up in Vegas. I made a comment about the Trust bein' involved in this whole McKay situation. He took is seriously. So, tell me, how realistic is that?"

Daniel stared at Mitchell for a moment and then frowned. "Very. But why would the Trust want to frame McKay for killing Kavanagh?"

"Who knows?" Mitchell shrugged. "Maybe Kavanagh was involved in somethin' that got him killed. Somethin' the Trust didn't want revealed?"

"Or maybe the Trust saw this as an opportunity to use McKay's dislike of Kavanagh against the team from Atlantis." Daniel pulled out his cell phone. "I'll give Barrett a call."

"How's he doing, by the way?"

"Good." Daniel listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line. "Since that whole Ba'al thing, he's really. . . Hey, Barrett? It's Daniel Jackson."

Mitchell waited while Daniel passed on his question and then nodded briefly when Jackson hung up. "He'll call back?"

"Yep, but he thinks you might be on to something. He said he'd compile a list of known Trust operatives and send them to us so we could forward them on to Sheppard and his team."

"Great." Mitchell jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Listen, Marina's with Rebekah, right?" When Daniel nodded, he shrugged. "Think she'd mind letting you take dinner to Rebekah while I took her out? We sort of had plans that got canceled."

"Plans?"

"Okay, a date."

Daniel grinned. He knew just how to get under Mitchell's skin, but he liked the idea that his team leader and friend was dating Rebekah's best friend. Tugging his phone from his pocket, he texted Rebekah and had a response within a moment. "She says to come over and rescue her from Momma Marina," he said with a grin.

Mitchell chuckled. "Tell her I'll be there in twenty minutes." The colonel headed toward the locker room while Daniel finished sending his message to Rebekah. A moment later, Mitchell turned around. "By the way, I checked into things. No one at the bank where Rebekah works—or any of her customers—show signs of wanting to attack her. That's a dead end."

Daniel nodded. "I figured it would be." He walked with Mitchell to the locker room. One of the perks of having been in charge of the SGC's archeology, anthropology, and linguistics departments for so long was that people knew what to do and what he expected from them. He didn't have as much work piling up as he liked to think with the departments redistributing the work during his time off. Maybe tonight, he'd bring something special for Rebekah and "take" her on a "date" in her own home. A movie, perhaps?

With his mind whirling, Daniel signed out of the base and turned toward his temporary home.

~~O~~

Agent Malcolm Barrett had never been one of Daniel's favorite people. He liked the guy well enough on a personal level, and he respected the man for overcoming Ba'al's brainwashing. That, alone, earned him some level of hero worship around the SGC. Still, Barrett worked for the NID, which automatically lowered his reputation a notch. Never mind that the NID worked just as hard as the SGC to thwart the efforts of the Trust and its snaky leadership. A man who would bring suspicion on members of the SGC wasn't well-liked in general.

But never had Barrett felt the animosity as he did today. Thanks to events in Las Vegas, suspicions ran high and tempers flared easier. As soon as the NID received word that McKay had been arrested for murdering Peter Kavanagh, Barrett had gone to work looking for a reason. Men like McKay just didn't snap and commit a capital offense. Besides, if McKay wanted to ruin a person, he'd do so from the safety of a computer console, hammering away at their intelligence and reputation. He wouldn't physically attack the person or go after him with poison. Like everyone else at the SGC who knew McKay, Barrett had been suspicious of events from the very beginning. Unfortunately, the NID had no grounds to get involved in the investigation. . .until now.

When he'd received Dr. Jackson's call asking if the Trust could have been involved in events, Barrett had jumped at the opportunity to work on the case. He'd spent the last three days compiling a list of known Trust operatives as well as reasons why the Trust would want Kavanagh dead. What he'd discovered was a bit surprising.

He found Jackson in his office and knocked on the doorjamb. Jackson's head came up, and he jumped to his feet. "Agent Barrett! What brings you down here?"

"Well, I was actually looking for General Landry or Colonel Mitchell, but I've been told they've both gone home for the night."

Jackson frowned. "What? What time is it?" He squinted at his watch and then shrugged. "Sorry about that. Is there something _I_ can do to help?"

"Actually, there is." Barrett stepped fully into the office and held out a file for Jackson to take. "As you know, the NID keeps track of all Trust activities that we know about or suspect. That includes who works for them and what those operatives are doing at all times. With your investigation into Dr. Kavanagh's murder starting to stray into Trust territory, I figured you'd want to take a look at our most recent list of operatives."

Jackson opened the file and started flipping through it. Each page had the picture of a known Trust operative and their vital info, sort of a mini-dossier on each one. Barrett watched the man's face as he dismissed the first three images he saw. He knew what those pages contained. Miguel España, aka Carlos: average weight and height, Hispanic, no tattoos or obvious markings, perfect for Trust work. Christina Emberson, aka Emma: naturally blond with hair dyed brown, contacts turning her blue-green eyes brown, average height and weight, no makeup, though she would have been a knock-out if she hadn't been purposely downplaying her looks. Lawrence Shoemaker, aka Eddie: dirty-blond hair, the most attractive of the three, blue eyes, easily forgettable in spite of sharp features, the sullen type who used his personality to push off attention rather than his appearances. So far, Jackson hadn't reacted to anything.

Barrett straightened when Jackson froze as he looked over the fourth page. "You're sure about these people?"

"As sure as we can be when dealing with the Trust. Why?" Barrett moved to the desk, craning his neck to look at the page that Jackson held.

Jackson skimmed over the information, his expression betraying hope that he had everything wrong. Handing it to Barrett, he sighed. "Because that's Colonel Mitchell's girlfriend."

~TBC


	16. Chapter 15

**Illusions**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Gin didn't miss the exchange of unreadable glances that passed around the room. This silent interaction might have made others nervous or edgy, but it made Gin angry. It was a tossup as to which was in charge, Sheppard or Woolsey, neither deferring to the other. "I want an answer. Now."

Jase was just as angry though better at hiding it than his partner. "There's something bigger going on than a simple disagreement between former colleagues and we want to know what it is."

Woosley got to his feet indicating that he would be speaking for the group. "You're right. But we're not at liberty to say just what that is, Detectives."

"Why not?"

"The work we do is highly confidential." As if an afterthought, Woolsey offered Gin and Jase seats. Evan and John gave up theirs and went to lean against the same wall Ronon was holding up. "I'm sure you understand that we're not able to give you all of the information you're requesting."

"Yeah. We figured that out when we hit a brick wall in your background checks." Gin and Jase hesitated when Amanda handed them each a bottle of beer.

"You'll need it. Believe me. And we can provide the two of you with a place to sleep, if you're concerned about driving." The honey blond doctor smiled. Instead of returning to her seat, Amanda went to stand next to John and was gathered to his side.

Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Woolsey looked like he was preparing for a fight. The info they'd gotten on him said he was a diplomat, a soldier who fought with words instead of guns. His job was to protect the interests of the country he represented as well as promote information and friendly relations. Gin had the feeling that what he was about to say would put everything she thought she knew about this group into a whole new category.

"We belong to a multi-national organization whose purpose we cannot disclose at this time."

"If you tell us, you'll have to kill us?" Gin scoffed. "That is so cliché."

Woolsey crossed his arms, not returning her half-hearted grin. "Please do not make light of the information we are about to give you. I assure you, if you repeat anything you hear tonight, you will spend the rest of your life in a prison that is so secret even _I_ don't know where it is."

The disbelieving smirk Gin had worn since Amanda handed her the beer turned to skepticism. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, Detective Stevens. I am not. If you don't want to become a cold case that your colleagues will never be able to close, I suggest you heed what I say."

"Uh…yeah." She cleared her throat to stop the tremor. "Of course."

Turning his intense scrutiny on Jase, Woolsey lifted one eyebrow in question. "Detective Maguire?" Jase nodded in agreement making the diplomat smile for the first time since the detectives' arrival. "Good. We-"

"Mr. Woolsey, if you and your people have such high connections within the United States government, why didn't you have the case taken away from us?"

"Because we want to keep on good terms with the local constabulary. We've also been conducting our own investigation. Discreetly, of course. Now if there are no other questions…" There were none. "We have uncovered evidence that a sort of terrorist society is operating in this area. It is our conjecture that they are behind the false accusations…"

~~O~~

After spending so much time on the strip, the bells, whistles and cheering of old ladies with blue hair winning jackpots barely penetrated Eddie's veil of indifference. Like Carlos, he didn't really care about the people around him aside from the occasional hook-up. He'd been alone most of his life and expected to die that way, either by his own hand or at the hand of another. Didn't matter. Not even the money mattered. Everything he did was about killing time. Even the killing.

Andrew, their handler, had tried to promote him, but Eddie turned it down. Too much responsibility. He preferred to just take orders. Sometimes he even brought Andrew the names of people he wanted to "do" just so he could get permission to do them. Not that he needed permission. But it kept the peace within their cell.

When he, Carlos and Emma had hooked up with Gavin-Kavanagh-whatever, they'd convinced him that it was accidental though it was all by design. And it was all to make money for the cause, not to help that _prick_ line his own pockets.

Now this Chuck person had taken over as if he had the right. Well, once the total in the offshore accounts reached twelve million he'd employ his special brand of persuasion to get the account numbers and codes then Chuck would be the first to go. Carlos would be next leaving Emma for last so he could enjoy a little stress relief before he ended her.

On second thought, Carlos was the least annoying of the three. Maybe he'd keep him around a while. They could take turns with Emma before he showed Carlos how it was done.

"Hey."

Eddie didn't look up as Emma pulled out a chair and sat down. She didn't greet him and he returned the favor then ordered her usual and a bowl of pretzels. Carlos joined them a couple of minutes later and right on cue, as if he did it purposely, Chuck arrived with that simpering smile.

The one good thing about Chuck was that they were making money faster than they had with Kavanagh. Taking out his phone, Eddie got ready to take down instructions.

~~O~~

"What's that?" Rodney took a bite from an apple as he leaned over John's shoulder.

"List of Trust operatives in the Las Vegas cell that Jackson got from Barrett." John glared at Rodney still crunching on the apple, but the physicist ignored him. "Thought we'd run 'em by Emma when she gets here."

Around the food in his mouth, Rodney asked, "Why? What purpose would it serve to have her identify these people if we already know who they are?"

"It's a _test_, Rodney. If she doesn't drop the hammer on at least a couple of 'em then we turn her over to the NID."

"And if she does?"

John sat back in his chair, a cup of coffee in one hand. "She works for us or we give Barrett a call and she disappears for the rest of her life. Simple."

Rodney looked around at the empty room. "Fine. But why just you and me? Why not Woolsey?"

"It isn't _us_. It's me, Chuck and Warlock."

"But…"

Getting to his feet, John poured more coffee. "Woolsey went to brief Landry, Mitchell and Jackson in person. Emma knows Chuck better than the rest of us so he's here to make her feel comfortable and Warlock's the attorney."

"Yeah, about that. We've been cleared of those ludicrous charges. Why is the Wicked Witch still hanging around?"

"Curiosity, Dr. McKay." Both men turned at the sound of Marjorie's voice. "I'd want to know what's going on as much as you do so I've decided to hang around for a few more days." She chose a seat in the corner and took out her phone. "Decaf with cream and sweetener. The blue one. Oh and I'll take a sesame bagel with the plain schmeer."

Rodney looked at John looking at him, his shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'll do it. But you gotta let me stay."

John looked over his shoulder as he went to answer the door. "Sit in the corner, be quiet, and give me your computer."

"_My_ computer?" Stomping across the room, Rodney set his tablet firmly on the table. "This is _so_ not as fun as I thought it would be."

Ignoring his friend, John let Chuck and Emma in. "Have a seat. Ignore the man in the corner."

"Oh!" Rodney clasped a hand over his heart. "I am wounded."

~~O~~

Emma leaned close to Chuck. "Are they like that all the time?"

Chuck shrugged sheepishly whispering back. "Pretty much." He gestured for her to go ahead then held a chair for her before taking a seat. "This is Marjorie Warlock."

Marjorie and Emma shook hands. "I'm the lawyer, but don't hold it against me. Everyone has to do something."

"Nice to meet you. I'm the thief." As glance to the side told her Chuck was very interested in her next response. "But I'm thinking of changing jobs."

John handed her a cup of coffee. "Well, before you do we'd like you to have a look at something for us."

"At what?"

Leaning between Chuck and Emma, John powered up the computer. "These photos. Tell us if you know any of them."

Emma shrugged. "Sure." Finger over the arrow keys, she tabbed to the first photo. "That's Carlos…this next one is Eddie. Chuck's met them."

Chuck asked the question he knew John wanted the answer to. "Why didn't you mention they were part of the Trust when we first brought you in?"

Again Emma shrugged, one corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. "You didn't _ask_."

John and Rodney shot nearly identical glares at Marjorie when she snickered. "She has a point, guys."

"Keep going."

"Okay…uh, don't know him…or her…or her…not him…nope…nope…" Emma flipped through the photos, stopped and backed up. "Colonel Sheppard, is this a test?"

"Why?"

"Just asking." Emma pointed at the screen. "I met him at orientation and know him as Alfred. He intimated that he was a highly placed government official." She rolled her eyes. "He came onto me. Used the corniest line. I told him I was gay so he'd leave me alone. It helped that Daisy stayed close most of the time."

From the corner, Rodney called out, "Daisy? Like the flower?"

"Yeah. Doesn't fit her at all." Turning back to the computer, she continued scanning photos. "She has dark hair, blue eyes and a sassy personalit…it's her!"

"Her who?"

"Daisy! Colonel Sheppard _she's_ the one who recruited me."

Rodney joined Chuck, John and Marjorie behind Emma looking at the monitor, John summing up the thoughts of the three from Atlantis in one word. "Crap!"

"You know her?"

John heaved a sigh that spoke volumes. _Mitchell's not gonna be happy._ "Sort of."

**The First Bank and Trust**

**Near Sundown**

Sirens blaring and lights flashing, the small gray SUV skidded to a stop behind several black and whites a half block from the bank. The SWAT van pulled in from the opposite direction at the same time parking out of the line of sight for anyone inside the bank. Two men hopped out of the front and rushed to the back where five others had already spilled out. All were dressed in black riot gear. Their leader, Sergeant Connor "CC" Cullen issued orders as his second, Corporal Noah Hunter passed out the weapons.

Jase slammed the driver's door and met Gin at the back where they armed themselves with assault rifles. Shoving the cartridge home and filling his pockets with extras, Jase kept his head down while watching Gin studiously ignore the fact that her cousin was a member of Team One. Artie Howard held the esteemed position of the best sharpshooter on the LVPD having been a sniper in Afghanistan. He'd joined Team One just two months earlier. As a negotiator, he was still learning, but he had the best teachers in the state.

Knowing how close Gin and Artie were, Jase wondered how they could sleep at night each knowing the other might be shot in the line of duty. Pushing those thoughts away, Jase adjusted the closures on his Kevlar vest, hooked his headset over his ear and inserted the earpiece. "You got me?"

"Five by." He didn't know how she did it in tense situations, but she actually seemed calm, almost as if she were just going down to the store for a loaf of bread. "Three gunmen. Eight hostages including the bank manager. Good thing it was almost closing time."

"Weapons?"

"Not sure. Probably the usual. Couple of automatics. Maybe a few handguns. We have to assume the worst if they're trying to rob a bank."

Cocking her head to the side, Gin listened in on the conversation from Team One. For the moment, Jase ignored the chatter as he slipped on his safety goggles then tuned in when CC began negotiating with the perps for the release of the hostages. Uniformed cops crouched nervously behind their squad cars, weapons drawn.

Suddenly, a shot rang out smashing through the bank's front window sending the perps into a frenzy. They popped up in the broken window and started shooting at anything that moved. Behind them, the hostages hugged the carpet, hands over their ears, some screaming.

Jase and Gin made a crouching run to the front of the SUV. In a perfectly choreographed sequence, they took turns popping up to squeeze off a few shots. Gin reloaded while Jase fired then he returned the favor.

He had just slammed a fresh cartridge home and chambered a round when a glint of light caught his eye. Someone was on the roof of the condos up the street. The angle was all wrong for the shooter to be Artie. A small red dot appeared on the side of Gin's head. Dropping his weapon, Jase dived for his partner. "Stevens! Get down!"

They fell to the pavement in a heap just as a shot rang out. He felt a searing pain in his shoulder and everything went black.

~~O~~

Dr. Henry Sanders, a lean African-American man in his early sixties, walked alongside the stretcher bearing Jase's unconscious body, Gin dogging his every step and peppering him with question after question. Henry answered her questions as succinctly as possible until they reached the surgical theater. "Please wait with the others, Detective Stevens. I'll come out when surgery's over."

"Of course." The oversized T-shirt she wore belonged to her cousin Artie. He let her borrow it when the CSI's took her blood soaked shirt as evidence in Jase's shooting. She joined Jase's family and friends in the waiting room. Her partner had gotten shot saving her. In her mind, she went over the list of people who had a reason to want her dead. It wasn't a short list. By the time she'd gotten to number ten she felt herself nodding off and let it happen.

Gin was awakened by Jase's younger brother, Brent.

"Ginny, the doc's here." Brent always called her Ginny. She hated the nickname, but loved Brent the same way she loved Jase, like a brother.

"Thanks." Pushing the hair away from her face, Gin listened while Dr. Sanders told the family that Jase was in recovery and to come back in the morning. She hugged Jase's parents, Brent and his sister, Tonya, took the elevator to the parking garage and headed for home.

Inside her home, she stripped off her clothes and stepped under the tepid shower. After washing away the dirt, sweat and blood, she decided against pajamas and crawled between the cool sheets of her bed. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next day, fully rested, Gin stopped at the hospital to see her partner. He was asleep so she left the "get well soon" balloon tied to the bedside table with the others and went to the station to fill out her report from the bank standoff the day before. They'd have to wait until Jase was conscious for more than a few minutes to get his version of what had happened…if he remembered.

~~O~~

Once the anesthetic began to wear off Jase's dreams turned to recent experiences. His dream-self breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't his shooting. No, this time his clouded mind churned up the memory of being scared out of his mind by four men and one woman infinitely better trained than he.

He'd wanted to find out more about was going on with the group surrounding McKay, Keller and Cole and what they're into that raised red flags all over the place. The background checks only went so far and stopped dead. A shudder twitched his shoulders at the word dead. Thanks to Kevlar he was still alive. When he was well enough to travel, he'd find Stephanie Kwolek and give her a big hug. Provided she was still alive. She had to be in her eighties now.

Though he knew he shouldn't, Jase had taken it upon himself to follow McKay's friends just to see what they were up to when they weren't hanging out in the hotel and casino. To do that, he sat in the lobby of their hotel to study their habits, what exit they used most, times, length of absences, attitude coming _and_ going.

**A Few Days Ago**

Sitting in his car across from the Motor Inn, Jase checked the time. Campbell had gone out hours ago, picked up by Sheppard, leaving his wife behind. During the background checks they'd discovered that the Campbell and Banks had gotten married a few days before McKay and Keller. Love was a wonderful thing. Too bad he hadn't been bitten yet. The only woman he'd had a relationship with that lasted longer than a few months-not counting family-was Gin. Closer than brother and sister, but not as close as lovers.

Jase brought his thoughts back to the situation at hand when Amelia came out, got into the rental and pulled out into traffic. He followed at a discreet distance as she made several stops for gas and other unidentifiable objects. She drove for a while then stopped once more at a fancy strip mall. He got out and followed her careful to stay out of sight.

Window shopping seemed to be the theme though Jase doubted it was her normal routine. A feeling that was confirmed when he followed her around a corner and was confronted with John, Ronon, Evan and Chuck…and they didn't look happy. In fact, they appeared to be not only displeased, but angry and dangerous to Jase's continued existence. "Whoops. Wrong turn." He tried to return the way he'd come, but the solid wall of Ronon's chest blocked his path.

"Stay!"

John blocked his retreat with Chuck, Amelia and Evan adding their glares to the John and Ronon's. "Why are you following Sergeant Banks?"

"What? Following? No. No. I was…I was just going to the…" he looked over John's shoulder, "…Spencer Gifts to get something for my…mom. It's her birthday."

"That's an adult 'toy' store." Evan snorted as did the others. "And your mother's birthday was two months ago. Try again."

Jase met each set of eyes, shivering when he got to Amelia's. Of all of them, he was most afraid of her. Without even trying, she'd led him into a trap and he hadn't seen it until too late. "Okay. You got me. Stevens and I are curious about what you're into that so secret."

"We can't say." John crossed his arms. "Get out of here and we'll forget all about this."

"Thanks. Um, I'll just…"

"And in case you're thinking of tailing someone else, like maybe Teyla, just remember what they say about small packages."

Gulping, Jase returned to his car and headed for the station working out his excuse for being late.

**Present Plus a Few Days**

As they had been doing, Chuck, Emma, Carlos and Eddie met for their twice a week strategy session. Chuck left by the front door, turned right, making his way to a small diner just off the strip. He ordered a slice of hot apple pie for himself and chocolate cream pie for Emma who arrived just as it and coffee were being served.

From across the street, Eddie used a digital camera with a zoom lens to take photos of Chuck and Emma eating and talking. They were joined by two men, one tall and muscular with short dark brown hair. The other carried himself in a manner that suggested he was military. Adjusting the focus, he took several frames of the three men alone and with Emma, their familiarity obvious by the relaxed attitudes all but the tallest displayed. She had to be giving them up to the feds for a reduced sentence.

He sent a request for a meeting. After Andrew saw the photos, Eddie wouldn't have to convince the Trust handler to let him remove Emma because "take her down" would the only three words out of his mouth just after an oath that would peel paint. Not that it bothered Eddie. He'd heard worse from his alcoholic step-father from the age of eight until he left home the day after high school graduation.

His friends had joined gangs at very young ages, but he'd avoided them as much as possible. The biggest gang by far was the Playboys. A mixture of several races, no one was fooled by the relatively tame moniker they'd given themselves. They were ruthless drug dealers and providers of "protection" for the local businesses. If someone so much as looked at them for more than three seconds, they'd be all over that person like a Velcro suit. One older man had been beaten so badly, he'd had to be identified by DNA and dental records.

A ding from his phone drew his attention to a text. _The Dog Pound. One hour._ For one of the few times since he'd been assigned to get in good with Kavanagh, Eddie smiled and cracked his knuckles. Shifting into gear, he headed for the biker bar named after Dog, the Bounty Hunter located a hour southeast of the city. He was already making plans for Emma.

~~O~~

In a quiet corner of Ophelia's Victorian Tea Room, Jennifer and Amanda sipped hot fragrant tea from real china cups poured by a server elegantly dressed in Victorian-era clothing. A small plate of mini desserts was magically replaced as soon as the last one had been consumed.

Just walking in the door brought a calmness to the mind, as if the outside world was a dream whose memory evaporated as soon as you opened your eyes.

In the corner, a man dressed like George M. Cohan played piano, accompanied now and then by a female vocalist. She had a perfect voice for the era, a little highbrow, a little vaudeville. A sweet amalgam of the two with a quality not meant to sing rock or pop. The duo accepted the light applause with grace and poise.

Mostly there were women, but here and there a few men sipped tea while reading the latest fiction adventure thriller. Mostly likely to get away from the clamor of a high-priced coffee shop with its blaring music and clientele committing crimes of fashion that would make Vera Wang cry and Coco Channel roll over in her grave. One brave male soul was reading _The Hunger Games_. To make his girl happy perhaps. Or not. Men were different now than they were a couple of decades ago.

"Jennifer, now that Kavanagh's gone and we've all been cleared of…" Amanda didn't say it. Just thinking that she and her friend could've spent the rest of their lives in prison made her insides quiver. "What did he do to you?"

The delicate cup Jennifer held stopped midway to her mouth then was returned to the saucer. She unnecessarily adjusted the folds of her lace-edged napkin before responding. "A week or two after Carson…Kavanagh came into the Infirmary for his semi-annual physical. You were on Earth with Rodney and the others. Everyone was still a little shell-shocked. One of the male nurses sent him to get undressed and he did without a fuss. But when I came in, he got…abusive. Said he wouldn't let someone who was barely old enough to vote learn to be a doctor by experimenting on him.

"I laughed it off as a joke until…" she blinked rapidly when tears of frustration welled up, "He came right out and said I only got the job by sleeping with anyone and everyone who might be able to help me advance my career."

"Oh, Jennifer! What did you do?"

"What do you think? I slapped his face as hard as I could then called the guards. They came running and dragged him away kicking and screaming. And they weren't gentle about it. Barely gave him time to get his clothes back on." She chuckled at the memory. "He was shipped back to Earth less than a week later."

Amanda covered her mouth with her fingers to keep from laughing out loud. "Serves him right."

Stirring her tea, Jennifer seemed reluctant to speak though Amanda could tell she was bursting to ask.

"You want to know why _I_ hated him."

"Yeah."

"It was a situation similar to yours. Only I didn't slap his _face_."

Jennifer pressed her lips together to keep in the giggle that threatened. "Oh, no."

"One day he said that I should've been killed, that it was _my_ fault that Carson died. That if I hadn't had one of my-he actually made air quotes-migraines he wouldn't have been killed in my place. Asked how I could live with myself. About then I hit him in the testicles with my knee so hard he may have been unable to procreate."

"No loss there. He should've been castrated at birth."

Amanda lifted her cup tapping it against Jennifer's in agreement. While they'd been talking, their empty plate of mini desserts had been replaced with fresh. They each chose one and devoured it one small nibble at a time while the vocalist sang _Bicycle Built for Two_ seguing into _The Band Played On_ as a duet with the pianist.

~~O~~

Andrew sat in the corner with his back to the wall facing the entrance of The Dog Pound. He was a regular here and though he didn't dress like the rest of the patrons, they'd learned early on to leave him, and his guests, alone. The servers often argued over who would serve his table because he was a good tipper for excellent service. A smile and a little bit of cleavage would get a girl double. A quickie in the alley netted the provider with enough cash to be able to take a couple of nights off if she so desired.

As he sipped his non-alcoholic beer, he eyed the new talent as she moved from table to table. A tattooed pool player pinched her backside and a moment later screamed in agony as her spiked heel came down on his instep. Unlike his compatriots, the idiot was wearing sandals. He'd probably limp for a week and it served him right.

An aura surrounded her that more than hinted at the passion that lay beneath the surface. Andrew made the decision not to move in right away. No, he'd get to know her, ask questions that made it seem like he was caring and approachable before making his move.

The door opened, Eddie entering and heading for Andrew's table. Eddie turned the second chair around and straddled it. A beer appeared in front of him as well as a bowl of Chex mix. A stash was kept just for Andrew and his guests. Neither of the men acknowledged the woman's presence.

Andrew picked up his iPad signaling Eddie to transfer the photos. Scrolling through them, Andrew silently put names to the faces. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne, Ronon Dex, Sergeant Charles Campbell and Trust operative "Emma." They looked very cozy. And to Andrew that meant Emma was working with them, probably making a sweet deal if she helped bring down their cell.

"Take her out."

"Any preferences?"

Andrew shrugged as he reached for another pretzel. "Your choice."

~~O~~

Now that she was officially working with Sheppard and his group, Emma decided to disguise herself outside of working hours so Eddie and Carlos wouldn't catch her slipping upstairs to meet with the Atlanteans. She purchased a wig and a pair of glasses. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Pulling on a hoodie, she zipped the front to hide her shape even more, shoved her wallet into her back pocket, grabbed her keys and headed for the hotel.

She self-parked and got out. Hands shoved in the hoodie's pockets, she kept her head down and mind focused on her task. So much so that she didn't hear the car coming until it was too late.

~~O~~

Rodney was feeling just a little lonely now that Evan, Teyla, Ronon and Dusty had gone back to Atlantis and Jeannie and Madison had returned to Vancouver. It had helped Jennifer, Amanda and he through this difficult time knowing he had the support of his family and friends. He still had John, Amanda and Woolsey, but he'd gotten used to having everyone around him. It wasn't the same without them all there together.

Though he tried to pay attention to his wife, Rodney still felt he could do more. While Jennifer was out with Amanda, Rodney got the idea to do a little shopping. He reached the parking garage and stood in front of the elevator trying to remember where they'd parked the SUV. He pressed the button on the key fob and was rewarded with a beep showing him the location.

A young woman walked toward him, head down watching her feet. The revving of a high-performance engine was the only warning either of them had before a black SUV with tinted windows squealed to a stop. The woman turned, the passenger window lowered and a handgun with a silencer was extended by a gloved hand. Four shots rang out in quick succession, all of them finding their target: the young woman's chest.

She stumbled and fell as Rodney ran to her side. He turned her onto her back, his hands coming away covered in blood. "Oh God! Emma! No-no-no-no! Don't die! Don't die!" He took off the button front shirt he wore over a T-shirt and pressed it to the wounds, the material turning red with the amount of blood pouring out of her. "Someone call 911! She's been shot! Call 911!"

Several people came running with cell phones in hand while Emma spit a mixture of blood and saliva from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. The sound of sirens penetrated the ringing in Rodney's ears as Emma took one last gurgling breath, let it out and was still.

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** First of all, let me apologize profusely! When I promised to keep working on this story, I did not foresee a character in my original fic jumping up and telling me the entirety of a trilogy in one sitting! I got so wrapped up in that that I've struggled to get my head in the right spot to write fanfic. However, with the help of **theicemenace** (and her constant prodding), I've managed to get this chapter done. Big thanks goes out to her for being so patient as she also has her own goals. This story _will_ be finished by the end of October as both **theicemenace** and I have original novels we're planning to write for this year's NaNoWriMo.

Now, on with the story. . . .

~~O~~

Cam Mitchell stared at the page in front of him, not wanting to accept what he saw. He glanced up at the three men watching him. "You're sure about this?"

Jackson looked sheepish, but Barrett answered. "Yes. These are _known_ Trust operatives."

Cam studied the picture, not seeing a trace of Marina in the cold, expressionless face. He felt as if he'd been sucker-punched with this revelation. Just the night before, he'd enjoyed a long dinner, movie, and walking in the park with her. They'd laughed, talked, held hands, and found themselves not wanting the night to end. Now, he found out her name wasn't even Marina. It was. . . .He flipped through the dossier Barrett had assembled. . . .Nora Brown. _Rather plain,_ he mused. Burying his emotions for the moment, he closed the file. "So, how do we play this?"

Jackson blinked. "We?"

Landry, who had only listened up until now, stirred in his chair. "Colonel Mitchell, I appreciate that you want to be involved but. . . ."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm already involved in this." Cam met his CO's eyes. "She seduced me, and I have a right to know why."

"Agreed," Landry replied. "However, Dr. Jackson and Agent Barrett will do the interview. If necessary, we'll bring Teal'c back to Earth."

Cam accepted that with a nod. "She's probably at Rebekah's right now. If we catch her as she's leaving, maybe she'll come quietly."

Jackson's brow furrowed as he thought of his own budding relationship. Marina and Rebekah were like sisters, and this would cut Rebekah to the core. "I'm supposed to trade places with her in two hours. Barrett and Mitchell can bring her in, and I'll catch up on what happens later."

Barrett spoke for the first time since handing the file to Cam. "Wait. Rebekah? The leader of her writing group?"

Cam nodded. "And Jackson's girlfriend who was nearly killed a little over a week ago in a car accident. She's close friends with Marina—Nora."

Barrett turned to Daniel. "And you trust Rebekah?"

For just a moment, Jackson looked like he would physically attack the NID agent for even suggesting that Rebekah was a traitor. Then, common sense and his history with the SGC took over. "Yes. But, if you need to, feel free to check her out."

Barrett gave a small shake of his head. "How did you two wind up so involved with this entire thing?"

Jackson shrugged, giving a fake smile to the other man. "Luck."

Cam snorted at that. Pushing away from the table, he glanced at his watch. "Marina—_Nora_ and I had plans in thirty minutes."

Landry nodded. "Alright, you have a go. Bring her in."

Cam pushed away from the conference table and turned toward the door. He stopped when Landry called his name. Turning, he straightened. "Sir?"

Landry narrowed his eyes. "You're sure you can handle this?"

"Yes, Sir." When Landry accepted that with a nod, Cam walked out the door.

Could he handle this? He wasn't sure. While he and Nora hadn't been dating all that long, he'd quickly started falling for her. She had a vivacious personality that matched her wild hair and blue eyes. Cam had quickly learned that she could get anything from him by simply smiling and staring at him with those eyes. Now, he knew she'd been trained to use her natural beauty against men like him, and he hadn't even seen it until it was too late. His anger grew as he signed out of base and followed Jackson to Rebekah's house.

How did Rebekah fit into all of this? Was Rebekah even who she claimed to be? Barrett would check into that before the night was out, but the question wouldn't leave him alone. He picked up his cell and dialed a familiar number. "Sheppard?"

"_Mitchell?"_

"We're on our way to pick up Daisy now. But I need a favor."

"_Name it."_

"Later this evening, I'll fax you a picture. I'd like you to show it to Emma and find out if this new person is involved."

Sheppard paused for a long moment. _"That might be a problem."_

"Why?"

"_Emma was just killed."_

Cam swerved ever so slightly. "What?!"

"_We're investigating."_

"Keep me posted." Cam hung up the phone and gripped the steering wheel. Had Marina—Nora—_whoever_ ordered the hit? Or had the Trust decided to tie up loose ends? Suddenly concerned that they wouldn't make it in time, Cam stepped on the gas pedal and broke every speed limit between base and Rebekah's apartment building.

Jackson frowned at him as soon as he parked and climbed out of his personal vehicle. "What was that about?"

Cam lowered his voice. "The witness who gave us that list of operatives was just killed. Sheppard and his team are looking into it."

Both Jackson and Barrett understood the importance of that statement. Barrett immediately started scanning the rooftops for signs of a sniper while Jackson followed Cam into the building. The two men avoided the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. They arrived on Rebekah's floor just as Marina slipped into the hallway. Her smile lit up her face immediately only to fall when Cam glared at her.

Thankfully, Barrett arrived in time to keep Cam from saying something he'd regret. The NID agent walked forward with a pair of handcuffs out. "Nora Brown, you're under arrest for treason."

Marina blinked. "What?"

Cam folded his arms across his chest. "Don't pretend you don't know what this is about, _Daisy_."

At the use of her call sign, Marina's face went blank. She stood straight and held Cam's glare as Barrett snapped the cuffs around her hands. Then, she turned to Jackson. "Rebekah's not involved. She's a friend of mine, and I'd appreciate it if you let me explain everything."

"Yeah, that probably won't happen," Jackson replied. He stood to the side of the hallway while Cam and Barrett led Nora down the stairs and into the waiting car. All the way back to base, Cam felt her eyes on his head and knew that any hope of a relationship with her had just been destroyed.

~~O~~

Sergeant Gerald Morris had worked for the SGC for three years. He liked his post as overnight gate tech, and it gave him all the time he needed to do his job. Most of the time, he simply copied the schedule of gate missions and turned it over to his superiors. Tonight, however, his job called on a skill set he'd kept very well hidden. He needed to remove something from the computer database, but the unusual level of activity left him fiddling with this and that rather than completing his mission. Finally, Landry settled into his office with a weary sigh as the meeting being held in the briefing room disbanded. Mitchell, Barrett, and Jackson never even glanced his way.

He had just typed the initial commands into his terminal when the general called for him. In Walter's absence, Morris filled in as assistant to the SGC's commander, and he was occasionally asked to ferry paperwork from one office to another. The request was unusual given the nature of their work. Off-world missions took place twenty-four hours a day. Everything changed, however, when Morris walked onto the same level as the detention cells. Ahead of him, Colonel Mitchell and Agent Barrett escorted a pretty young woman toward him. Her hands had been cuffed behind her back, and she lifted her chin as she passed him. Morris met her eyes, and he knew something had gone horribly wrong.

After delivering the papers, he hurried back upstairs. His lunch hour was approaching, so he figured now would be as good a time as any to finish his work and disappear. He had contingency plans in place for just such an occurrence, but he needed to get one more thing done. It took longer than he wanted to hack into the medical files, but he finally erased all evidence that he'd even been there or had altered the medical file. Then, he initiated a gate dialing program that would be triggered by a specific set of keystrokes. If everything went well, he'd walk through the gate before dawn, never to return.

Sitting back in the chair, Morris smirked. _I knew I was good_, he thought. _Head to lunch, fake my death, and contact Shade. He'll want to know we're compromised. Then, retire off world where no one will think to look for me._ The thought had barely finished forming in his mind when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he stared up into Colonel Mitchell's furious eyes and knew his cover had just been blown.

~~O~~

Marina sat in the detention cell of the SGC staring at the small window and knowing her life had just changed forever. When Cam had appeared at Rebekah's apartment, she had seen the difference in him. He was no longer Cam, the guy she was dating. He had become Colonel Mitchell, much the same way Dr. Hottie had become Dr. Jackson.

Letting out a deep breath, Marina pushed to her feet and wandered over to the table to get a drink of water. Agent Barrett had listened to her story and knew the whole truth. So had General Landry and, she suspected, Colonel Mitchell. That left only two people for her to talk to: Rebekah and Dr. Jackson. She hoped Rebekah would one day forgive her for the betrayal but knew it would take some time. For now, her entire life had unraveled and would not be put back together for a very long time. And it was all her fault.

A sudden bout of nausea made her set the water aside and drop back into her chair. She'd accomplished numerous missions for the Trust before, believed in what they said, and felt justified in doing so. But over the course of the last few months, she'd come to realize everything the Trust told her was a lie. However, she was in too deep and had no idea how to get out. Then, she received the order to bring Rebekah into her schemes. That's when she hatched the plan to get Rebekah brought to the SGC. Even that hadn't worked out as planned.

The door opened, and General Landry stepped inside, followed by Agent Barrett. Marina straightened and squared her shoulders as the general sat down across from her. "Miss Brown."

"Is it too much to ask to go by 'Marina?'"

Landry blinked. "That's not your name."

Marina dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I've gone by 'Marina' for so long I barely remember when I _wasn't_ her."

Landry sighed and laced his fingers together. "Agent Barrett has proposed a plan that I think warrants serious consideration. You've helped us by giving up Morris. I think we can help you."

"How?"

Barrett leaned over and dropped a file in front of her. "In exchange for your help in bringing down the Colorado Springs cell of the Trust and working with us to undo their operations, you will be given a full pardon and released to pursue your life under any alias you choose once the job is done."

Marina blinked. "You want me to be a double agent?"

Landry shrugged. "Is it any different than what you do now?"

"You don't understand!" Marina's gaze skipped from one man to the other. "If the Trust finds out—and they will—I'm dead!"

Landry lifted his chin and sighed deeply. "Even if you don't sign those papers, you're dead. You've been compromised, and you're no longer any use to them."

Barrett met her eyes. "Think about it, Miss Brown."

Marina stared. She really had no choice if she wanted to live. But how could she fake breaking out of the SGC? She'd tried for months to get _into_ the SGC and had failed at every turn. If she just walked out, the Trust would know something had happened. Which is what Barrett and Landry were proposing.

And what about Rebekah? The Trust had their eye on her innocent friend, a woman who had just fallen in love for the first time in years with a man who adored her in return. She couldn't ask Rebekah to spy on Daniel and live the same sort of life Marina had lived. Her stomach turned as she thought about the things she'd been asked to do. Years ago, while watching the first Mission: Impossible, she had idly wondered how good men and women could find themselves in such fantastically untenable situations. Now, she knew.

Barrett and Landry left her alone. The packet of paperwork they'd offered lay on the table, taunting her with its contents. Marina stood and paced away, knowing every move she made was watched closely. Outside the door, she heard shouting, footsteps, and warnings to stand down. A moment later, a gunshot sent her to the ground. Realizing she wasn't hurt, she rushed to the window and peered out. Cam stood over another soldier, sidearm trained on the guy while guards rushed to drag him to his feet. She touched the window with one hand while observing everything she could about Cameron Mitchell. The set of his shoulders told her more than she wanted to know about his anger, and he gave Morris—the man he'd just shot—the most venomous glare she had ever seen. Then, without warning, he turned and met her gaze.

Marina's breath hitched at the sheer anguish in his eyes. She wanted to go to him, to apologize and explain everything, but she knew the time for that had passed. She could not hope for a future with him, but she could try to make things right.

Decision made, she stood at the window until Mitchell turned on heel and strode away. Then, she walked over to the table and, without taking time to read anything, signed her acceptance of Landry's deal. Clicking the pen closed, she folded her hands and sat back, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

~~O~~

Rebekah knew something had changed when Marina arrived the following evening. Daniel had sat with her all day, irritated over something that happened at work but unable to say anything about it. Now, Marina stood in her door holding take-out and looking as if she had just seen her puppy run over by a stranger. Pushing herself higher on the couch, Rebekah winced when it jarred her leg. "Marina?"

Her friend blinked and carried the food to the table. Then, she moved to the couch and dropped onto the floor. "I've got something to say, and I want you to just listen without interrupting. When I'm done, you can ask all the questions you want. Deal?"

Rebekah frowned. "No."

"No?"

"You look horrible. What happened?"

"That's why I wanted you to not interrupt." Marina shrugged and began to tell her story. While questions popped up in Rebekah's mind, she didn't give voice to them because she couldn't. Her mind whirled as she learned her best friend wasn't who she claimed, worked for a secret agency, and had tried to use Rebekah as a way to get information she wanted. Then, Marina dropped the bombshell. "When my normal methods didn't work, I was ordered to bring you in."

"Me?"

Marina nodded. "You and Daniel were close at the time, but not dating yet. At least, not admitting you were dating. They wanted me to have you use your relationship with him to get the information they wanted." She paused for just a moment, seemingly gathering her strength. "I couldn't do that to you, Rebekah. I saw how happy you were with Daniel, the life you live, and I couldn't ruin it. Not the way my life is. I live every day with the realization that I could die at any moment. I'm always checking over my shoulder, watching for assassins, looking for that person that has some secret weapon poised to kill me. I couldn't let you face that."

Rebekah's heart sank. "What did you do?" When Marina didn't answer, she grabbed her friend's hand. "Marina! What. Did. You. Do?"

Marina blinked, and several tears dropped from her eyes. "I paid someone to run a red light while you were there."

Rebekah stared, unable to comprehend the good thought behind the actions. "Wait. You _set up_ my accident? You arranged for me to nearly be _killed_? All because you didn't want to follow orders?"

"No! Because I thought Daniel would take you to his infirmary and keep you safe! I planted enough evidence for them to find, but the cops didn't get it! They just thought it was some random traffic accident!"

Something in Rebekah snapped. She pointed at the door. "Out!"

"I'm so sorry, Beks, but I really. . . ."

"I said _out_!" Rebekah reached for the walker next to the couch, struggling to get to her feet. If Marina didn't leave, she would find a way to physically shove her out the door. She felt the tears pushing against her emotional control, and she knew she wouldn't hold on to her anger much longer. Nausea already swirled in her stomach as her mind began to fully comprehend the betrayal. "So help me, Marina, if you don't get out of my home, I will remove you myself!"

Rather than pointing out how improbably that statement was, Marina stood and nodded. Tears dripped off of her chin, and she met Rebekah's eyes. "Before I go, you need to know that you probably won't see me again. Colonel Mitchell offered me an option, and I took it. When this job is over, Marina won't exist any longer."

"Good!" Rebekah hissed.

That one word and the thought behind it caused Marina to jerk as if she'd just been slapped. She blinked several times and walked toward the door. "For what it's worth, Rebekah, you were the best friend I've ever had."

Rebekah glared. "That's not worth a whole lot considering you tried to kill me."

Marina took a moment to compose herself and then nodded. "See you around."

"I hope not." Rebekah couldn't stop the parting insult as the woman she had once considered a sister opened her apartment door.

That's when all hell broke loose.

~TBC


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N:** The bar in chapter fifteen got its name from a real place called The Dog Pound in Cedar Hill, Texas. However, it's not a bar. Its business is Chicago hot dogs. If you're in that area of Texas, the store can be found at the Uptown Center on 1382 across from Wal-Mart.

~Sandy

**Illusions**

**Chapter Seventeen**

The black SUV screeched to a stop and backed up, the side door opening to disgorge three hulking masses wearing ski masks. A woman screamed as they grabbed Rodney and shoved him into the back. A muffled voice shouted, "Go!"

The elevator dinged, John, Chuck and Amelia rushing to Emma's side as the vehicle took off again. John snapped a photo, but the license tag had been covered. As the police and paramedics came closer, he heard the SUV crash through the barrier on the north side street level of the north side.

The ambulance skidded to a stop behind the police cars. The paramedics dragged their equipment from the back and pushed through to Emma's side while the police moved the onlookers back out of the way.

John pulled out his ID and showed it to the cop in charge. They spoke briefly then John joined Chuck and Amelia again. "She's dead. And someone took McKay. Not a stretch to figure it was probably the Trust. Chuck, get hold of the videos and ID the perps. We have to find them before McKay ticks them off."

Chuck managed a smile of empathy through the pain and anger of losing someone who had become a friend. The Gate Tech took his wife's hand and together they entered the elevator already making plans for "borrowing" the videos and finding Rodney.

Going from one uniformed officer to another, the lead officer whispered in their ears, receiving a nod from each. His next stop was to crouch between the paramedics, a man and a woman. They too nodded though they didn't stop trying to revive Emma. Five minutes went by then the paramedics sat back on their heels shaking their heads just as the medical examiner and CSI units arrived.

The medical examiner checked her over. "Sorry. One of the shots nicked an artery. She bled out. Take her to autopsy and I'll make it a priority."

"Sure."

The ME caught John's eye. "You a friend of hers?"

"Sort of. I'll ride along, if it's okay." The paramedics loaded Emma's body onto the stretcher, zipped the body bag and loaded her into the back of the ambulance. John climbed in, the guy slammed the door then climbed into the front passenger seat. They pulled into traffic with lights but no sirens. Their passenger was in no hurry.

Hours later, the CSIs packed up and returned to their labs to begin the arduous task of processing the evidence.

~~O~~

"Who are you and _why_ have you kidnapped me? I demand-_oof!_" Rodney ranted until something hard was jabbed into his ribs. It felt like the business end of a handgun so he shut up. For a while. "Do you have _any_ idea who I am? I have very important and revenge-minded friends."

"We know who your friends are and do not care." It was the contemptuous voice of a man for whom English wasn't a first language. He sounded Italian, but Rodney couldn't be sure. The man poked him again. "Shut up before I shut you up now instead of later."

The blindfold kept Rodney from seeing his captors and with his hands and feet tied, he could barely move. "Fine. But n-not because I am at all intimidated by you and your _goons_. I just feel like…being quiet for a while."

Sometime later, he fell asleep, waking up when his feet were untied only to be forced on board a plane. His bladder was ready to explode. One of his captors untied his hands and forced him to go with the door open and the blindfold in place then tied him to one of the seats in the passenger area.

There was shuffling around and a different male voice spoke. "I'll get you something to eat once we've taken off."

"Oh, so _now_ you're showing some manners. You should know you'll get a little more cooperation with a few kind words."

The man snorted. "We don't _care_ about your feelings. But, in your defense, I'll rephrase things. Let me bring you your _last meal_."

"Uh, th-that's not, uh, necessary. In fact, it's probably best if we didn't talk anymore."

A hand patted Rodney's cheek patronizingly. "Good idea."

~~O~~

Gin had just left the hospital from visiting Jase when she got a call from an unknown number. "Stevens."

"_This is Sheppard. Our witness was just gunned down in the parking garage and McKay was taken._"

"I know. The Captain just called. It's connected to the Kavanagh case so I'm taking lead."

There was a pause then, "_We need to talk._"

"You bet your sweet _ass_ we do. I'll be there in ten. Be ready to spill your guts, Sheppard." She didn't give him a chance to answer as she hit the end key, climbed into the SUV, buckled her seatbelt and sped out of the lot. Not wanting to draw attention, she kept her speed down and didn't use the lights or siren.

At the hotel, she tossed the keys to the valet, gave Woolsey's room number and jumped into the elevator just as the door closed, drawing annoyed glances from the couple already inside. He was an older man in an expensive suit, commonly known as a "casino whale." A high roller who bet big, played big and occasionally won big. She was much younger and overly made up. They wore matching rings and from the sour look on the husband's face, he'd just lost big.

Gin got out on the correct floor, stalked to the door, fist raised to knock when it was opened by one of Sheppard's cronies, Campbell. He smiled and stepped back so she could enter then quietly closed the door. Sheppard wasn't there. Just Campbell, Banks and Cole. "Where's Sheppard?"

"He'll be here soon. Are you hungry? Would you like something from room service?"

Chuck held a chair and though she was tempted to ignore his attempts at hospitality, she felt herself giving in. The strain of this case and her partner being shot were getting to her like no case had in a long time. Not since… She pushed that thought away and sat down. Amelia handed her the room service menu while Amanda offered her a drink. "I don't _get_ you people."

The three friends exchanged confused glances with Chuck doing most of the talking. "Sorry?"

"We arrested McKay, Keller and Cole for a crime that they didn't commit and you're treating me like a long lost friend. What gives?"

Amanda passed her a bottle from the minibar. "You were just doing your job, Detective."

A snort came out of her throat before she could stop it. "Well, that clinches it. If you really were criminals, you'd have a vendetta against me and my partner."

"Well, I _am_ a doctor, so keep that in mind…"

Gin made of note of the words, semi-teasing tone and ambiguous smile then laid the menu aside. "BLT on rye. Not toasted. Extra everything, including bacon. Cottage fries."

Amelia used the television to make the order then switched over to a game show where contestants competed in physical and mental challenges. In one such challenge, a young and very shapely woman answered questions and for each wrong answer, she had to take off an article of clothing. By the time she was down to her thong and push-up bra, Chuck was blushing. It was surprising in a man of his age and experience, but she didn't mention it and eventually she relaxed enough to get into the spirit, cheering along with the others when a favorite won a round.

~~O~~

"Clear!" Henry Sanders applied the paddles to the chest and left side of the man on the bed as the nurses stepped back. _Ka-THUNK_ "Again!" They worked on their patient until it became clear that there was nothing more to be done.

The heart monitor wavered one more time then returned to the steady drone showing no heartbeat. With a heavy sigh, the doctor shut off the defibrillator and the VS monitor. "Call it."

The nurse glanced at the clock. "1422."

Henry nodded. "I'll tell the family." He took off his stethoscope and slipped it into his pocket as he made the long walk down to the ICU waiting room remembering another time when he'd been on the receiving end of bad news.

"Henry?"

"Tobias. Alyssa." Jase's father and mother rushed forward, their stricken expressions more familiar than the doctor cared to admit even to himself. "We did everything we could."

"He was doing fine when Ginny was here. What happened?" Brent had an arm around his sister who had one hand on her mother's shoulder, crying into a wad of tissues.

"An embolism. It's more common for them to travel to the lungs, but this one reached his heart. I delivered that boy. He was a fine young man."

Mary lifted her head. "Yes, he was."

Henry squeezed her hand, the sadness more than the usual. "No parent should ever have to outlive a child."

Brent looked embarrassed. "Sorry. I forgot about Lindy."

"Don't worry about it, Brent. My daughter wouldn't want us to continue to mourn so long after she's gone." A sad smile eased the young man's distress. He touched Brent on the shoulder. "If you'd like sit with him for a few minutes…"

Tobias clasped his life-long friend's hand. "Thanks, Henry."

**Trust Safe House**

**Gulf Coast of Louisiana**

Trina and Troy, one of the few couples who had been recruited by the Trust, kept watch over the prisoner. They didn't know his name and preferred it that way. All they knew at this moment was that he was an annoying, self-involved prick who wouldn't shut up.

Troy paced back and forth ignoring him while Trina had gone to get him something to drink. Normally they wouldn't have bothered, but they'd been ordered to keep this one alive. At least for the time being. No one would say why and it wasn't their place to ask. Not that they cared one way or the other. They just followed orders.

"Can you at least untie my hands? They're going numb." Troy didn't respond so Rodney got up and walked to the bars staying far enough away that he couldn't be grabbed. "_How_ am I gonna get away? Huh? I'm locked in here and you have a gun. That woman has a gun and I counted at least seven guards on the way down to this hell hole you call a safe house. And _why_ do they call it a safe house anyway? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I-I don't feel safe at _all_."

Troy chambered a round and then aimed the gun at the man's head. Rodney's eyes widened in fear, and it made Troy happy. He smirked. "This is the _Trust's_ safe house. As soon as our other guests arrive, we'll get down to business."

"Guest? _That's_ what I am? A _guest?_" Rodney gestured with his bound hands. "Guests aren't usually tied up and locked in a cell."

With a grand eye roll, Troy took out a knife and flicked it open with practiced ease, motioning Rodney closer. The physicist shook his head. "I'm just gonna cut your hands loose." He did so, watching as Rodney rubbed his wrists. "_Don't_ make me regret it."

"What about that drink? I'm getting _really_ dehydrated." The door at the far end beeped then opened, Trina coming toward him with a bottle of water. She passed it through the bars, but before she could walk away, Rodney asked, "And can I get something to eat? I have hypoglycemia and…oh, thanks!"

The last was in response to Trina shoving a power bar at him. When the couple returned to the desk next to the locked metal door, Trina threw herself into a chair while Troy rested one hip on the edge. "What's happening out there?"

"More guests will be here in about twenty minutes."

Troy took her hand. "Don't look so glum. It'll only be a few hours then we can get back the store."

"Good. I don't like leaving Marcus in charge for too long." Standing, Troy leaned down to kiss his wife before going to the door. "I'm gonna hit the can then check with the boss. Oh, and don't forget to make the produce order."

Trina smiled up at him. "Already done. Don't be gone long or I might kill him."

Their witty banter ended when the PA came on. "_Red alert! Unknown aircraft approaching!_"

~~O~~

Taking the bottle of water and power bar, Rodney went back to the cot and sat down. He'd just taken his first bite when the announcement came over the PA. It made his jailers nervous. They paced from one end of the passage to the other checking and rechecking their weapons, stopping now and then to converse in whispers.

Rodney had already scoped out his surroundings. He was in an old fashioned jail cell with a high tech lock and a second cell across and down where he could barely see inside it unless he stuck his face up to the bars. If he had his computer or even a life signs detector, he could've shorted out the system and escaped. But not knowing where he was made the idea of escaping problematical.

He finished the snack and lay down to rest. A few minutes later, the main door opened and a man entered carrying a small case followed by several hulking guards. With a nod, he indicated that the door be opened. "Roll your left sleeve up to the elbow, Dr. McKay."

"What? Why?"

"You can do it yourself or these gentlemen will do it for you."

Rodney didn't like the lifeless expression on the man's face. Real fear invaded his mind and he did as requested. "Are-are you a doctor?"

"That is not your concern." He opened the case, took out a portable scanner, running it over Rodney's forearm. An electronic squeal startled him though he'd expected it. The doctor had located his transponder. After donning latex gloves, the area was cleansed then a scalpel was produced. "Hold still."

"Wait! A-aren't you gonna use anesthetic?"

"No." The flat tone and the guards forced Rodney to comply. "It will hurt more if you struggle."

"But…ow-ow-_OW!_ Do you _have_ to be so rough? I have sensitive skin and veins and stuff."

The doctor ignored him as he made a one-inch incision, set the scalpel aside then used forceps to probe within the opening, ignoring Rodney's expressions of pain. A moment later, he extracted a metal object about the size of a grain of rice. The doctor took a small glass container from the case, removed the top, dropped the transponder into the liquid, and recapped it, watching it fuzz as the acid destroyed the device. Setting the bottle back into the case, he used several gauze pads to staunch the flow of blood, cleansed the area again, sealed the cut with liquid bandage then covered it with more gauze and tape. After gathering his supplies, the doctor was gone as quickly as he'd arrived.

Rodney's stomach dropped to his feet, his hopes dashed. With the sub-q gone, the SGC wouldn't be able to locate and remove him from this hellish prison right under the noses of the Trust.

~~O~~

"We're landing, sir. Please fasten your seatbelt."

The man sitting in the Gulfstream's lounge nodded as the attendant came to take his glass and the remains of the snack he'd eaten on the way. He picked up the tablet he'd been reading, tucked it into a small padded bag then seated himself and buckled in. Fifteen minutes later he took the stairs down to the asphalt where Andrew and William awaited him.

Andrew came up on this right. "He's here. We've removed the transmitter and waited for you to arrive to begin the questioning."

"William?" His tone asked the question.

"There was a problem when my men went to pick her up. Our information was in error and she wasn't alone. We had to take them both. The other one had to be carried most of the way."

James, the director of Trust activities for the southwestern United States, stopped walking to stare at William, his hand reaching inside his jacket. "Why didn't you just remove her and be done with it?"

"She's been seeing a member of the SGC. We should find out what she knows."

When James withdrew his hand, William sagged in relief that it was empty. James nodded. "Agreed." Turning his left wrist over, he checked the time. "I have an appointment in Denver at seven. You have…three hours. I suggest you get busy as I bore easily."

"Yes, sir," William hurried to carry out his orders.

"Andrew. I have another task for you." Waiting until they were alone, James gave Andrew a quick rundown of what he had in mind. "I understand that you were once acquainted with one of the major players in this little drama."

"Yes, sir. We grew up in the same neighborhood. But you needn't worry. I've taken care not to be recognized."

Shoving both hands into his pants pockets, James met and held Andrew's gaze. "Renew that acquaintance. Invite your friend for a visit."

"And if that invitation is refused?"

"You know what to do."

"Yes, sir."

**Las Vegas**

Harvey, one of the CSI interns, tapped the keys of the computer, eyes glued to the monitor. On the left was the slug taken from Detective Jase Maguire's shoulder. On the right flashed thousands of possible matches until the screen stopped, the words "match found" blinked and beeped to alert him. "Son of bitch!"

A few more taps sent the info to the iPad at his elbow. He scooped it up as he rushed out the door and down the hall to the autopsy room. "Araceli? That slug we got from the hospital? We got a match. It was fired from the same weapon that killed a witness in the Kavanagh case, Randy Archer." He handed her the iPad. "Thought you'd like to be the one to call Stevens."

"Of course." Araceli picked up the ringing phone with a distracted air, her eyes still on the slugs specs displayed on the screen. "Autopsy…Yes, this is Dr. Velasquez…What?! How…I see…Thank you for calling, Captain. I'll call Stevens."

"What was that about?"

"Huh?"

"The call. You look like you talked to a ghost."

"Sorry," her voice was soft. "Detective Maguire just passed away. Embolism."

Harvey looked down at his feet. "Oh, _man_. That's rough."

A couple tears had rolled down her cheeks. Getting to her feet, she swiped them away with an angry gesture as she opened the desk drawer and pulled out her purse. "I gotta go. Tell Dr. Russell for me?"

"Where're you going? Do-oc?"

~~O~~

Screeching to a stop in the driveway of her home, Araceli jumped out and ran to the house. "Phillip!"

"In here, Mom!"

"Pack a bag, get Boomer's leash and food and get in the car."

The boy came out down the hall into his mother's room where she was tossing clothes into a bag. "What's goin' on?"

"Just do it! Hurry!"

"Okay!" His voice faded as he returned to his room.

Digging in the bottom drawer of her dresser, she opened the false bottom and took out several flash drives and floppy disks shoving them in the side of her bag. She also took out a burn phone, hit speed dial, spoke a few words then snapped it shut again. Taking the bag and phone, she went to the kitchen where she took a hammer from the tool drawer. Placing the cell on the floor, she hit it over and over until it was reduced to junk. Drops of sweat dripped onto the floor. With shaking hands she scooped up the pieces, dropped them into the disposal and turned it on. The grinding noise drew her son. Her stomach clenched as she destroyed the only evidence of her mother's whereabouts in Mexico.

"Mom! What're you _doing?_" Phillip stood in the doorway, a green duffle bag over one shoulder and a medium sized mutt dog sitting at his feet.

"Get in the car! We'll talk about it on the way."

"But Mom…"

"No argument." Araceli tossed her bag in the back seat while her son strapped Boomer into his special seatbelt and climbed in beside her. She backed out of the drive and roared down the street without looking back.

~~O~~

A commercial came on and Gin took the opportunity to hit the bathroom. On the way out, her cell rang. "Stevens."

"_Ginny? It's Araceli._"

"What's up?"

"_I'm sorry, Ginny._" Araceli's voice cracked, alerting her to the horrible news coming her way. "_Jase died a few minutes ago. The doctor diagnosed it as an embolism. It traveled to his heart and…_"

"An embolism?"

"_That's when…_"

"I _know_ what it is, Cel!" She took a deep breath and let it out, aiming for a steady voice when she spoke. "I'll probably hear from Brent soon so…"

"_I'm sure. Gin, where are you?_"

"Why?"

"_We need to talk and it has to be face to face._"

"I'm not really in the mood for…fine." Gin gave her the name of the hotel and the room number. Returning to her seat, she dropped her phone into her lap without ending the call and stared at the television.

"Is something wrong, Detective?" Campbell asked.

"Yeah." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and then looked up when she could control the emotions. "Where the hell's Sheppard?"

The door opened letting in John, Woolsey and Marjorie. "Here. What…"

"My partner just died." Gin went to confront John, standing toe to toe with the taller man. "Whatever's going on, Sheppard, I want in."

~~O~~

"Who are you again?" John still didn't know what to think about the woman, boy and dog just showing up on their doorstep.

"Araceli Velazquez. I am, or _was_, the assistant medical examiner for the LVPD. My code name within the…" her eyes slanted to the side then back to John, "…the Trust is, and please don't laugh, Frances."

"Mo-om! What's the Trust? You never told me what's goin' on." Phillip held tight to Boomer's leash, eyeing the adults with suspicion.

"Hey, pal…" Phillip looked up at John with dark brown eyes still confused over the events of the last hour. "Why don't you and your little buddy go down the hall with Dr. Cole and Sergeant Banks?"

"Fine. C'mon, Boomer."

As Amelia and Amanda passed him, John whispered, "Get him and the dog something to eat. Play games, watch movies, whatever. Just keep him busy. When the dog has to go out, call the front desk to take him. Stay in the room and do _not_ let Phillip out of your sight."

When the door closed, Araceli breathed a sigh of relief that her son wouldn't have to listen as his mother admitted to breaking laws that would put her in prison for the rest of her life. She turned to face McKay's team and took a moment to gather her thoughts then she launched into her story.

"Phillip was just a few years old when my best friend was severely beaten by her husband because she served him with divorce papers. Cara spent the next three weeks in the hospital and another month in physical therapy before she could return to work. Somehow he managed to scrape up witnesses that put him elsewhere at the time of her attack and because Cara had amnesia for the event, Alan was acquitted.

"She lived in constant fear for her life until we came up with a plan. Cara would go to Alan and suggest they try to make their marriage work one more time. She would make the offer of make-up sex knowing he'd accept. The, uh, only down side to the plan was that Alan preferred his sex…rough. He liked when she fought back making it more like… She always had terrible bruises the next day though he was careful to make sure they'd be covered by her clothing."

Woolsey was incensed. "And you let her return to that environment?"

"We _counted_ on it, Mr. Woolsey. It was the linchpin in our little scheme." She paused for a drink when John handed her a bottle. "That night, Cara waited until Alan had gone to sleep then took off, going straight to the police station to report that she'd been raped by her soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Cops do _not_ like rapists. Alan was picked up at his apartment a short time later. He hadn't denied they'd been together, but insisted that Cara had come on to him when she came by to give him his prized Nolan Ryan autographed baseball. Thanks to some friends who will remain nameless, an excess of evidence upheld Cara's claim, whereas none supported his.

"He was tossed in jail with the rest of the scum and while he was awaiting his arraignment, he was stabbed to death by another inmate over a penny ante card game."

Chuck cleared his throat. "What about his family? They didn't insist on an inquiry?"

She laughed derisively. "No one shed a tear over the death of a man who first terrorized his parents and siblings then moved on to the neighbors and from there to random strangers. On first meeting, he would come off as charming, but soon began showing his true colors as a vicious sociopath. He knew the difference between right and wrong, but didn't care. He was gone and anyone who knew him rejoiced."

~~O~~

When Araceli's story ended, John belatedly realized that an officer of the court had been present for the entire time. They all looked at Marjorie who had stayed quiet.

Marjorie shrugged. "Didn't hear a word she said." She held up her phone. "I was sending emails and texting the whole time."

John leaned against the wall engaging in one of his silent conversations with Woolsey. The diplomat nodded for John to continue. "That's all very…interesting and a little disturbing. But it doesn't explain how you got involved with the Trust."

"Not long after Alan's death, a man named Andrew contacted me. Somehow he knew what we'd done. My mother lives in Mexico. Even with all the drug trade and killings, she refused to leave. And Phillip's biological father left before he was born. If I had gone to jail, he would've gone into the system. I couldn't let that happen."

"So what do you want from us?"

"Protection for my son and myself. And Boomer of course. No one knows where Ma-ma lives and she can take care of herself." Araceli smiled for the first time. "In return, I'll tell you anything you want to know and more about Trust activities in this area."

"That's great. But at the moment, we're a man down. And our informant was killed."

"Was her name Emma?"

Woolsey took off his glasses, carefully wiped them clean then replaced them before speaking. "As a matter of fact, it was."

"Then it's a good thing I'm here. I know where they took your friend."

A collective exhale of relief went around the room. "That we already know."

"Why haven't you _left_ already?" Her incredulous tone almost made John laugh.

"We're waiting for reinforcements."

"Oh." Getting to her feet, Araceli went to the minibar and helped herself to a bottle of black cherry soda. "So who gave you the location of the safe house?"

Again the door opened and two more joined them.

"That would be me."

Everyone put on a smile of welcome for the last person Araceli had expected to see. "But you're…"

"Who was it that said 'reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated'?"

Jennifer went to the minibar as well, taking out two bottles of beer and handing one to her companion.

John nodded a greeting. "Welcome back from the dead, Emma."

**Trust Safe House**

**Louisiana Coast**

Just as Rodney finished the power bar, more guards came in. Two were practically dragging an injured woman between them and he could see the pain twisting her features wishing he could do something to help. She looked familiar but he couldn't place her. Not until he saw her companion.

The dark haired woman walked meekly along until one of the guards shoved her in the middle of her back. She stumbled, shooting a glare over her shoulder at the guards who returned the look with a placidness that made them seem even more dangerous.

Troy opened the cell door, standing out of the way while the two women were taken inside. The injured woman lost her balance and fell to the floor crying out. Rushing forward, her companion tried to help her up but was pushed away.

"Get away from me!"

Through her bravado, Rodney heard more than just the pain of injury. He also heard the agony of betrayal. Pressing his face between two bars, he watched their interaction.

"Let me help you."

"I don't want your help, Marina! Nora…whatever. Your _help_ got us into this."

"I _said_ I was sorry, Beks. What more do you _want?_"

The two women struggled together until the one with the brown hair flopped onto the bed. She pushed away the hands still trying to help and lifted her bad leg onto the bed. The one called Marina took a second pillow from the cot and carefully placed it under "Beks" leg. "I'll tell you what I want…ugh…"

Marina huffed. "What?"

"Stop…calling me…BEKS!"

"But…I thought you liked it."

"Well, I _don't_. Never did."

Going to the far corner, Marina slid down to sit on the floor. "You should've _said_ something."

"I _did!_ But you _never_ listen." Beks propped herself up on her elbows so she could see Marina sitting on the floor. "I _told_ you not to call me Beks and you did it anyway. I told you I didn't want a makeover, and you still made me go. I told you I wasn't dating Dr. Hottie and…"

Marina snickered. "You _are!_"

"That's _not_ the point."

"What _is_ the point?"

There was a long pause and a muffled thump. "Don't know. But when I figure it out, it'll blow your socks off."

Rodney thought that now was a good time to interrupt the argument. "Um, excuse me."

Both women gasped as if they thought they were alone then there was the sound of Marina walking to the door. "What?"

"I'm Dr. Rodney McKay. You don't know me, but I sorta know you. Both of you."

"Oh?"

"You're a Trust operative by the name of Daisy AKA Marina Sanchez AKA Nora Brown." Though he couldn't see it, he knew the women had exchanged puzzled glances. "And your friend's name is…" Rodney snapped his fingers, "…Rebekah Jacobs."

Marina snorted. "Whatever you do, don't call her Beks."

"No problem." The face of the woman he loved swam though his memory, bringing with it all those little moments that, when he put them all together, meant they were perfectly matched.

"So, doc. Did you have a point to all of this?"

"Uh, no. Just wanted to introduce myself since it looks like we're not gonna make it out of this place, you know, a-alive."

Rebekah's voice came to him again laced with sarcasm. "Thanks for the words of _encouragement_, Dr. McKay. Since we're gonna die together, maybe we should call you Rodney."

The door at the end of the hall opened to admit an African-American man and two guards. They stopped in front of Rodney's cell. A gasp, barely heard, was ignored by everyone though the man did cast a brief glance in that direction then back to Rodney. He moved away, not liking the expressionless glare in the man's eyes. They were two dark, bottomless pits in the middle of his face. "Come with me, Dr. McKay. There are a few questions we'd like to ask you."

As the metal door closed behind them, Rodney thought he heard Marina whisper three words and a name. They told him she wasn't just afraid. She was _terrified_.

"Oh my god! William."

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Just a quick note to let everyone know there should be no delay in posting the rest of this story. The writing process is complete! Yay! As always, hope you enjoy! ~lg

~~O~~

Even though he didn't trust Marina, Cam still allowed her to go up to Rebekah's apartment alone. He hung out in the tiny foyer of Rebekah's apartment building, not willing to move much further away than that. Some guy in a business suit wandered in, nodding politely to Cam as he wearily headed for the elevator. Cam paced the opposite direction and wished this place had a security guard of some sort. He wouldn't be stuck down here if it did. He'd be able to keep an eye on things via the security cameras.

Jackson appeared when the elevator returned from taking the suit to whichever floor he needed. The archaeologist looked exhausted and worried. He didn't speak, just gave Cam a nod of his own.

Cam leaned against the wall. "How's she doing?"

"Tired of being trapped in the bed or couch." Jackson shrugged. "Can't say as I blame her."

Cam nodded and looked at the elevator again as another of the apartment building's residents came through the lobby. "Nora?"

"Talking to her." Jackson shook his head. "If I know Rebekah, we'll be seeing Marina show up soon enough."

"Think she'll toss her out?"

"I _know_ she'll toss her out." Jackson pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, a sure sign of exhaustion. "The only reason she won't toss _me_ out if she ever finds out what I really do is because I told her I worked for the military. Classified work and all that. Marina was just a friend, someone who she met at the coffee shop. There was never any hint that she was someone other than Marina."

Cam nodded again as he studied the toes of his boots. Even he, a US Air Force officer, had been taken in by Marina. When they'd met, something about her instantly drew his attention, and he'd pretended not to feel that niggling warning in the back of his mind. Some women were just naturally vivacious, and Marina seemed like one of those women. Coupled with the fact that Jackson trusted her, Cam hadn't given a second thought to welcoming her into their little circle. Of course, those two women didn't know Teal'c was an alien, didn't realize that Sam commanded a _space_ ship, and had no idea that Jack ran Home_world_ Security. There were certain things that just didn't get discussed on a date. But the core of the group—who they were—led them right into Marina's trap.

How much had she managed to discover about the Stargate Program based on how Cam talked about his job? He was always careful, always on guard against accidentally spilling secrets. But people who knew about his life could pick up things in the very words he used. Spies were trained to hear those words and analyze them, and if Marina had turned any of their conversations over to the Trust's analysts. . .if they _had_ analysts. . . .Things could get very bad very quickly.

Jackson's quick nudge drew him out of his thoughts, and the archaeologist nodded over his shoulder. "Let's go get a drink and let the girls talk things out." He pulled his keys from his pocket. "There's a place a couple blocks away."

Cam wanted to protest and say he shouldn't leave, but he knew they couldn't keep loitering around the lobby. It would draw attention, and Marina didn't need any more than she normally attracted. She'd agreed to work for the SGC, and Cam, ironically, believed her allegiances had changed. He couldn't be certain, however, and wanted to stay on location to provide assistance should Rebekah call. But Jackson was right. Their presence had already resulted in several glances as people came in from long days at work. A block or two away. . . .He could handle that. "Just do me a favor, Jackson."

"Yeah?"

"Don't let me get drunk."

"You wouldn't do that." Jackson opened the door to his vehicle. "Let's go."

As they drove away, Cam glanced back up at the window to Rebekah's apartment and wondered just how Jackson's girlfriend had reacted. If it was anything like how he felt. . . .He sighed again and simply closed down.

~~O~~

Daniel didn't drink much as a rule, but he could see that Mitchell desperately needed to get away from the questions and the situation just for a few moments. So, he found the place he'd mentioned and pulled into the driveway. Inside, they each ordered a beer and made a beeline for a booth in the rear. It was shadowed, semi-private, and allowed the two men to react to the current circumstances.

Rebekah's best friend had orchestrated the car accident, committed treason, and lied to all of them. Daniel was no stranger to that sort of betrayal, but it still infuriated him. Rebekah wasn't a woman who knew about the Goa'uld or the dangers they represented. She had no knowledge of the Stargate, of life on other worlds, or anything that he did on a daily basis. In many ways, she was more naïve than Sha're had ever been, but he still loved her. He still loved how she didn't ask questions, how she gently pulled his life with Sha're and her story—what he could tell her of Sha're's story—out of him without making it seem forced. He loved the way her eyes lit up when talking about a story, the warmth in her voice when she was tired, and the intense focus on her face as she managed to write novels faster than he could even think about typing. He loved _her_. Everything about her, everything she was and would ever be.

That realization had hit him a few hours ago, but he'd managed to keep it at bay for a bit longer. He didn't need Rebekah worried about him while she coped with her best friend's betrayal. But here, across from Mitchell, he couldn't keep ignoring it. Rebekah was as much a part of his life as Sha're had ever been. And he didn't know how long he could go on pretending she wasn't.

"You know," Mitchell said, pulling him from his thoughts, "we could use someone like Rebekah on board."

Daniel's eyes focused sharply. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not sayin' we put her on a team, Jackson." Mitchell shrugged. "Plausible deniability. Remember that show. . .what was it?"

Daniel groaned. "Wormhole X-Treme? You're comparing Rebekah's writing to _that_?"

"No, I'm saying a published author with killer science fiction plots—some based loosely on our missions—would be an asset."

Daniel waggled his head. "Yeah, I can see where you're going. But I don't know Rebekah would want to have her hands tied."

"That's the beauty of it. She wouldn't." Mitchell frowned. "Well, she'd have her hands tied in that she'd have security clearance and wouldn't be able to tell everyone everything. But, if we do this right, we could give her free reign with certain mission details and let her spin the stories. That way, if anything ever got out. . . ."

Daniel had to admit Mitchell had a point. "You think Landry will go for it?"

"After this, I don't know." Mitchell stared at his beer bottle. "I was just trying to make conversation."

Daniel nodded. "Yeah." He pushed away from the table. "Don't think it's working."

"Me, neither." Mitchell glanced at his watch. "Head back?"

"Yep."

The two men paid their tab and left, their beers virtually untouched. But it had given the women the time they needed to talk things out. Daniel expected to meet Marina in the lobby, uncertain of what her state of mind would tell them about Rebekah's reaction. If she didn't meet them there, she should have called them. It was part of their agreement. When they walked into the apartment building and did not see Marina, they immediately headed for the stairs.

Both men saw the open door to Rebekah's apartment at the same time. Daniel immediately reached under his jacket and pulled out the .9mm he carried everywhere. As he checked their six, Mitchell did the same thing and cautiously entered the apartment. The colonel's muttered curse drew Daniel's attention, and he frowned. "Mitchell?"

The place had been trashed. Rebekah's kitchen table was overturned, two of the chairs broken. One chair leg had obviously been used as a weapon, as had anything sitting on the tables or tops. Rebekah's laptop lay on the floor, broken but salvageable to someone who knew computers. Broken glass littered the floor from vases of flowers Rebekah had received while in the hospital. And two cell phones had been shattered.

The girls were gone.

Daniel forced himself to breathe, to get over the idea that yet another woman he loved had been abducted. _This isn't happening; not again_, he thought as he frantically checked every closet and room on the small chance Rebekah had managed to hide herself. _No, no, no, no. . . . ._ The word played over and over in his head as he met Mitchell in the living room.

The colonel picked up on his distress. "Jackson? You okay?"

Daniel simply nodded, not trusting his voice. He looked around again. How had they missed the intruders? Who were the intruders? The Trust? That was a likely assumption, but Daniel suddenly couldn't believe he'd drawn Mitchell away for a drink. It had been a reckless decision he'd made trying to help out a friend.

Mitchell pulled out his cell phone and dialed from memory. A few words later, and he sighed. "Sir, we have a situation. Marina—_Nora—_and Rebekah have disappeared. . . .No, it looks like a war zone in her apartment. I think they. . . .Yes, Sir. . . .I'll call Sheppard, then. Thank you, Sir." He hung up and faced Daniel. "Landry's given us permission to do what's needed to get them back." He reached out and clasped Daniel's shoulder. "We _will_ get her back."

Daniel nodded, understanding what the other man saw. But after losing Sha're and Sarah to the Goa'uld, the reaction to Rebekah's disappearance was almost overwhelming. He tried reigning in the swirling emotions but failed miserably.

Meanwhile, Mitchell turned to give Daniel his privacy, making another phone call as he did. "Sheppard? It's Mitchell. We've got a situation here."

~~O~~

**Las Vegas**

Several hours later, Cam and Daniel arrived at the hotel where Sheppard's team had holed up for the long haul. The two men glanced around the lobby, seeing Ronon lounging somewhat listlessly against a column while Major Lorne stood nearby. The major had his hands on his hips and looked official even in civilian clothes. When Ronon spotted them, he pushed himself upright and simply smacked Lorne's shoulder. The two newcomers headed straight for them.

Lorne nodded to Daniel and met Mitchell's eyes. "Doctor, Sir. Welcome to Vegas."

Mitchell snorted. "Yeah."

Lorne turned toward the elevators, waiting until they'd crowded inside to speak. "Landry called after you did and filled us in on a few things, including the SGC's deal with this Nora to work for us?" When both men nodded, he continued, "Well, she's not the only one helping us out. You've been told about Emma? She's waiting upstairs."

Daniel shot a frown toward Mitchell, but the colonel's face was as unreadable as ever. On the appropriate floor, they stepped out of the elevator and waited while Lorne opened the hotel room. Once inside, Daniel blinked at the people present. Most of Sheppard's people—minus McKay—crowded the area. Jennifer Keller looked pale but determined. One woman wore a badge and gun on her hip while another stood next to her, speaking softly to a small boy as she gave him a snack. A dog bounded into the room to greet the newcomers, and Mitchell happily knelt to say hello to the boisterous animal. A third woman sat in a chair, somewhat older than everyone save Woolsey, and the final stranger eyed them from her spot next to Sheppard. Daniel took all of this in with one glance and sighed when he realized how much life in the SGC had changed him.

Sheppard stood and started making introductions. After waving to each of the members of his team, he turned to the strangers. "Detective Gin Stevens, LVPD. Araceli Velazquez, medical examiner. Marjorie Warlock, attorney-at-law. And this is Emma."

Daniel stared at Emma. She had the same wary expression on her face that Marina had worn. "Your. . .uh. . .asset?"

Emma's lips quirked. "Good way to put that."

Sheppard frowned. "What happened in Colorado?"

For the next several moments, the group stayed quiet while Daniel and Mitchell filled them in on the events in Colorado Springs. They left out very little save for Mitchell's true relationship with Marina and just how badly Rebekah's disappearance had affected Daniel. He'd managed to bury all of the emotions for now, but he would eventually have to vent them if they couldn't find the women quickly. For now, he chose to remain optimistic and as calm as possible.

Finally, after a long pause, Jennifer stood and wandered into the other room. Teyla and Amanda followed her, leaving the bulk of the group with Sheppard. Atlantis's military commander nodded. "Okay. We know the safe house where they're holding McKay. We know how it's laid out and what it'll take to get in there. Mitchell, you and Dr. Jackson will go in with us. Once the hostiles have been. . .eliminated. . .you'll find out if there's any kind of information on where they've taken Rebekah and Marina. Hopefully, we can get to the women before too much happens to them. Chuck here is planning to go through the video surveillance footage of McKay's kidnapping and try to identify some of the people there. We're also keeping an eye on the hotel, so we know if anyone approaches." He turned to Emma. "Any ideas where the Trust would take the women?"

She shook her head. "No. Last I knew, Marina was in place. I don't know what happened to bring her down save for me talking to you guys. How the Trust found out about that, I don't know."

Daniel met her eyes. "We had a mole at the SGC."

Ronon straightened. "Had?" he asked, emphasizing the past tense use of the word.

Mitchell nodded. "He's been dealt with." He pointed at the map Sheppard had spread out. "So, Jackson and I are with you. If they get back to Earth in time, Teal'c and Vala already have orders to join us. Landry's standing by with reinforcements, as well." He looked at Daniel as he said the next words. "We'll get them back."

~~O~~

Rebekah lay in the bed after Marina's little epiphany of just how much trouble they were in and listened to McKay pacing in his cell. She wished everyone would go away and leave her alone so she could cry. The pain in her leg had jumped from bad but manageable to excruciating as her last dose of medication wore off. She didn't want to create a scene by crying, but the jostling of the fight in her apartment and the lack of gentleness from her abductors had likely aggravated the injury.

Marina turned from where she stood next to the bars. "Be—Rebekah?" She sighed and glanced at Rebekah's bandaged leg. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"What do you think?" Rebekah closed her eyes and breathed through her nose to stop the sharp retort that wanted to come out. "Yeah. I wasn't supposed to put any weight on it for another four weeks. Even then, I'm not sure how much I should handle."

Realization dawned on Marina's face. "And they all but made you walk." Her expression crumbled. "I am so sorry!"

"Don't fall apart on me now!" Rebekah pushed herself up to a seated position and stared into her former best friend's eyes. "Look at me. You're part of this life. You're responsible for all of this. But we've got to put that aside for now. I _can't_ walk, and I can't fight these people. But they _trained _you. They gave you the tools you need to get us out of here."

"You don't understand." Marina shuddered. "William? He's. . . .I've only heard stories about him. No one—_absolutely_ no one he interrogates ever comes back alive."

Rebekah felt her face pale. "Then you've got to do something quick."

"I don't. . . .I don't know. I mean, they were very thorough when they searched me for weapons, and we'd just fought at your apartment. . . ." Marina patted her jeans, looking for anything their attackers might have missed. She obviously came up empty. "I guess we could. . . ."

Before she could finish, one of the men who had attacked them at Rebekah's apartment strolled down the hall and started unlocking the cell. He dismissed Rebekah with a quick glance and focused on Marina. "Time to go. William wants to talk."

~TBC


	20. Chapter 19

**Illusions**

**Chapter Nineteen**

Andrew had been sitting in the corner for hours waiting for his objective to arrive. It wouldn't have taken as long if he'd called, but he wanted it to seem like a chance meeting between old friends. Anything else would've aroused suspicion to someone involved in keeping secrets the way the SGC did.

A flash of blond hair caught his attention. He threw some bills on the table and weaved a path in her direction. Pretending to play one of the slots, he kept an eye on her as she ordered coffee and a muffin. When she took out a pen to do the crossword puzzle, he put on a pleasant smile and made his move.

"Excuse me. I think we know each other."

~~O~~

Jennifer left John and the others in the room talking to Emma and Araceli about the Trust. It was all very interesting and she knew it would help find Rodney, but she needed to be alone for a while so she went down to the hotel's café for coffee. She ordered a banana nut muffin too, but just ended up shredding it into a pile of brown chunks and eating just the walnuts. The server brought her a newspaper and she pulled out the funny pages. Most people got their funnies online these days, or so she'd heard. She hadn't had time to read a newspaper or a book for pleasure since she'd joined the SGC. And with a state of the art smart phone, she could do this online, but there was just something about having the paper in your hands, hearing it rustle as you turned the pages, and those pages jiggling when you tried to hold in your laughter. Setting the funny pages aside, she'd just started the crossword puzzle when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Excuse me. I think we know each other."

Rolling her eyes at the obvious come on, Jennifer didn't even bother to look up. "Sorry. I'm not from around here and I'm married."

"You _are_ Jennifer Keller, aren't you?"

Suddenly, the voice sounded familiar, bringing with it a picture of herself at the age of fourteen. Braces, her unruly hair in a ponytail, baggy slacks and an oversized top that hid what puberty was doing to her body.

On the ice, the captain of the hockey team had been a whiz, but in the classroom, he was less than stellar. So his mother had hired her to tutor him. She'd had a crush on him from the moment he smiled at her in the lunch room. He hadn't meant anything by it, but to a nerdy fourteen-year old girl who had never been smiled at by a boy, it was her undoing. With dark hair that touched his shoulders just wavy enough to be interesting and his piercing brown eyes, Jennifer had swooned every time he even glanced her way. Funny, but she hadn't thought about him in years. Not since she left home to go to med school.

He moved around in front of her, that same crooked grin on a face lined by the years since they'd last seen each other. His dark hair was shorter now and eyes still as piercing, but now all she felt was indifference. She got to her feet. "Russell Hollister?"

"That's me." He gathered her into an awkward hug.

"Uh, please, join me."

His eyes dropped to the table. "You're busy. Just wanted to say hi."

"It's okay. Sit." She waited for Russell to scoot into the booth across from her then signaled for the server to bring another cup of coffee. "It's good to see you. How're your parents?"

"They're good. Thinking about retiring to Coral Gables, Florida." He sipped his coffee. "How're yours?"

Jennifer fiddled nervously with her pen. "It's just me and my dad, now." When Russell gave her a sympathetic glance, she realized what she was doing and set the pen aside. "So, what're you doing these days?"

Russell shrugged. "I run a tour company. Mostly day trips to Vegas in the summer. Ski trips to New Mexico and Colorado in winter."

"Sounds like fun. I'll talk to my husband and friends. Might be able to drum up a little extra business for you."

"Looking forward to it. How's your dad?"

"He's been seeing an OR nurse from the hospital. Gloria Salazar. It's the first time he's dated since mom died." Jennifer inhaled sharply when Russell laid his hand over hers because his touch made her feel…creepy. Gently pulling away, she rested both hands in her lap.

"That's good to hear."

Something about this tone bothered her. As if his enjoyment at running into an old friend was forced. It made her want to get away from him…fast. "I hate to cut this short, Russ, but…"

"I have to get going too. How about I take you and your husband to dinner at the Bellagio? I'll bring my girlfriend. It'll be fun."

At the mention of Rodney, Jennifer's danger sense began tingling even more telling her to leave _now_. Russell hadn't even asked his name or why he wasn't here. "We have plans." She signed the bill, handed it to the server, and got to her feet again. "It was really good seeing you again, Russ, but I have to get going."

Before she could make her getaway, Russell was behind her, one hand holding tight to her upper arm and the muzzle of a gun jabbed into her ribs. "_Not_ a word or I'll start shooting. In a crowded place like this, lots of people could get hurt. You don't want that."

Jennifer blanched. This wasn't the boy she knew in high school. "What's this all about?"

He jerked her closer as they neared the door, his voice a harsh whisper. "Don't be coy, Jennifer. You know very well what it's about. McKay's not cooperating and we need _you_ to talk to him. Convince him it would be in everyone's best interest to give us the information we want."

"Whatever it is, _I'll_ tell you. Just don't hurt him…ow!" He jabbed the gun into her ribs harder.

"You don't _have_ what we want."

Jennifer tried to pull away again, but Russell held on tighter. "Ow! Russ! You're hurting me."

"I'll do more than that, if you don't stop struggling. What were you thinking when you married that loser?"

"He's _not_ a loser and I love him very much." Jennifer stared at him. "And you're not Russell Hollister."

He laughed evilly. "Oh, I'm Russell. Trust me on that."

"Trust someone who's holding me at gunpoint? I don't think so. The Russ _I_ knew was kind, even sweet. To me anyway. He loved his family, his dog and hockey and camping and hun-" Jennifer clamped her lips together.

"Hunting. Say it. I _loved_ hunting." Russell laughed again. "Definitely more than most and I was very good at it. Eventually I found a way to put that talent to use, make it work for me."

"_You_ killed Kavanagh."

"No. But I know who did. You see, the Trust was just using him and once he'd served his purpose, he was…removed. Then you and your friends had to step in a mess it all up."

Jennifer couldn't speak. Her muscles had turned to water forcing Russell to hold her up.

~~O~~

"Whatcha got there, Chuck?" John leaned over the Gate Tech's shoulder, joined by Gin, Amelia, Woolsey, Emma and Marjorie.

"It's the video from Emma's shooting and Dr. McKay's kidnapping. I've enhanced it as much as possible, and I'm using recognition software to see if any of these creeps are in our databases, but it's not looking good. I can get you approximate height and weight but without more to go on…"

"Put it on the big screen."

"Sure." Chuck worked his magic, and the television lit up, segmented into sections showing current views of the hotel. He started to change over the previous feed, stopping when John grabbed his arm.

"That one, Chuck. Zoom in."

Chuck did as he was told and they were treated to a forty-two inch view of Jennifer being led out of the café by someone they recognized. Emma had given him the name Andrew, the head of the Las Vegas Trust's cell. She tried to get free, wincing when his hidden right hand moved.

"Chuck, Banks, Stevens. With me. The rest of you _stay here_."

The three from Atlantis pulled weapons from under their jackets, checked them and returned them to their place of concealment. When they looked up Gin was watching with a smirk. "I don't wanna know how you got those, do I?"

"No." John went to the door. Standing there with grins and weapons ready were Cam Mitchell, Daniel Jackson, Evan, Ronan, Dusty, Teyla and a squad of soldiers in camouflage.

Cam nodded to Stevens, Emma, Araceli and Marjorie, the only members of the group he didn't know. "Ladies."

John kept from rolling his eyes seeing that all the women were taken with Cam's excessive amounts of charm. Out in the hall, Cam issued orders. "Ronon, Banks, Sheppard, Jackson and Lorne, you go through the casino. Teyla, Stevens, Chuck, me and these guys'll cover the exits. Let's get this a*****e before he hurts the doc."

~~O~~

Gin followed Cam down the stairs, Chuck behind her. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Likes to give orders, doesn't he?"

"He's a Colonel. They're good at that."

They reached the ground floor and Chuck cracked the door before following Cam, Gin and the squad out into the hall that lead to the parking garage. "We're up, boys and girls. Let's _do_ this!"

**Louisiana Coast**

Now that he was no longer in the basement, Rodney could see dark skies through the frosted windows and hear thunder. The occasional flash of lightning lit up the sky, but he still couldn't make out any details. He heard whispers from the guards saying there was a hurricane headed their way and hoped rescue would come before it was too late. Though at the moment, it was the least of his worries.

Tied to a chair, he glared at a man who glared back as he walked around and around. "Just tell us what we want to know, Dr. McKay and this'll all be over."

Though he knew it was futile, he struggled against his bonds. "I _can't_ give you information I don't _have!_"

"You're the one who claims to know everything about everything." He leaned down close to Rodney's ear. "Just tell us and I won't have to get others involved."

Rodney turned his head to the side, grimacing. "You know, a breath mint would help that green cloud hovering around your mouth."

With a growl, his interrogator came around front, poise to backhand him across the face again, stopping in mid swing when the door opened. Rodney winced in anticipation of the hit, relaxing when it didn't come. A second man joined them. His air of arrogance matched the first man's making Rodney even more nervous.

The new arrival dragged a chair over in front of Rodney and straddled it. "I have something to show you, doctor." He tapped the screen then held out the phone in his right hand forcing the physicist to watch a video of a man talking to Jennifer. She knew him or wouldn't have let him hug her. He took a seat across from her and they talked. A few minutes later, they stood and left the café together. The man shut off the video and slipped the phone into his breast pocket. "As you can see, one of our men has your wife. They'll be here shortly."

"What the _hell_ are you doing? Jennifer doesn't know anything either."

"Either? Dr. McKay, _stop_ _stalling_. You have something _we_ want. We have something _you_ want." He patted the pocket that concealed the phone. "Tell us what we want to know."

The refusal of both Trust operatives to believe that he telling the truth irked Rodney. No, not just irked. Infuriated. "Look, whoever you are, if had what you wanted, I would give it to you, but I don't! Threatening my wife will do you absolutely _no good_. My friends will not take kindly to your methods so I hope the Trust has provided you with a really good medical plan because you'll need it." He took a deep breath to calm down. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go back to my cell."

The door opened and a third man came in. "He wants to see you."

"Now?" The other two man shrugged as if they didn't understand the reasoning either. Together, they went to the door. The newest addition whispered to the guards and Rodney was returned to his cell with a lot of shoving and pushing, though thankfully, no taunting. He let himself down onto the cot as the guards continued on down the hall. A moment later, a loud voice disturbed his rest, such as it was.

"Leave Rebekah alone! She doesn't _know_ anything!"

Going to the cell door, he pressed his face close, but couldn't see anything because the guards blocked his view.

"Okay. _Okay._ I'm _going_."

"Wait! Where are you taking her?" Rebekah's voice was tinged with worry.

"_Not_ your concern."

There was a thump and Rebekah grunted in pain. "Ow!"

The one called Marina was led away and when the door closed, Rodney turned back to Rebekah. "Hey. You okay?"

She moaned in pain. "Yeah. What will they do to her?"

"I-I don't know. They didn't do much to me, but we were interrupted. I'm guessing some bigwig in the operation is here." He could hear Rebekah scooting around trying to get comfortable.

"About that. What _is_ the Trust? Marina wasn't exactly clear. And how are _you_ involved? What do they _want?_"

"It's all very complicated a-and…"

Rebekah huffed. "Confidential? Why am I _not_ surprised? That seems to be the story of my life lately."

Rodney sensed that she was fed up with being left out and wanted to help her. But to do that, he needed information. "Look, I need to ask you a couple of questions. Not to be nosy, you understand. Your answers will tell me how much you know and that in turn will tell me how much I can tell you."

"Whatever. I'm just so…tired of this. First Daniel then Marina and now you. When does it all _end?_"

"Um, wh-who is Daniel?" He knew what she was going to say before she said it but asked anyway.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson, the guy I've been dating." He could hear a wistful smile in her voice. "Marina calls him Dr. Hottie."

"I knew it! It's just _so_ typical. I don't know _why_…"

~~O~~

"Wait!" Grunting and groaning, Rebekah got to her good foot using the cell bars for support. "Did you just get married?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Daniel told me he'd gone to a friend's wedding and that he'd been arrested for murder at the reception. That was _you!_" She couldn't see, but knew he nodded.

"Yeah. Murphy's Law."

They lapsed into silence for a short time, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Rebekah couldn't stand it any longer. "So you were saying…"

"Oh, uh, how much did Jackson tell you about his work?"

"Nothing. Just that he's an archaeologist and linguist who does work for the US government. Beyond that," she shrugged, "I have no idea what's going on. Rodney, please _tell_ me _something_. I have to _know_."

"The Trust is sort of a terrorist organization. I can't tell you their true purpose. I'll leave that to Daniel. You'd have to sign a non-disclosure agreement and it would have to be notarized. They might have to get the president involved and who knows who else. But if you're in love with him…"

"What? Who said I was in love with…that's," she laughed uncomfortably, "ridiculous." Even to her own ears, her denial sounded lame.

"You don't sound very sure of yourself." What could Rebekah say to that? He was right. "You know, that's how it was with me and my wife. I was with someone else when we first met. When I broke up with Katie-though I didn't know it at the time because, well, I'm not the most socially…"

"Rodney!"

"Sorry. Sometimes I just get off on a…never mind. The point is it took a very bad situation for me to admit my feelings for Jennifer. I mean, how could a woman like her ever fall in love with someone like me? But she did and now we're married." He stopped talking again. Mostly likely to contemplate their upcoming demise. "But don't you worry. Sheppard will find a way to get us out of here."

He actually sounded like he believed it. "How can you be certain? This Sheppard person doesn't even know where we are."

"Pretty sure." Rodney snorted. "He's saved my ass, uh, _butt_ on more than a few occasions. Why should today be any different?"

Silently chuckling at his attempt at being a gentleman, Rebekah eased herself back down onto the cot. "I'm a big girl. You don't have to temper your words for me."

"Oh, well, I was just…" Troy opened the door at the end of the hall, standing back while two men dragged a beaten and bruised Marina into the hall. "Oh, my God! What did you _do_ to her?"

"Get back! Now, doctor!"

Rebekah pulled herself to her feet again, pressing her face to the bars trying to see. "Rodney? What's going on? Is Marina okay?" There just at the very edge of her vision she could see the guards open Rodney's cell and unceremoniously toss the barely conscious ex-Trust operative at his feet.

**Las Vegas**

"This is how it's gonna go, Jennifer. Nice and quiet like, we're going to my car. I'll lock you in the trunk where you'll behave until we get to the airfield." Jennifer had no intention of going quietly. She dug her heels in, stepped on his foot and swung her now free right arm across her body preparing to elbow him in the face. But he was ready for it, moving the gun from her ribs to her temple and cocking the hammer. "Learned a few moves since high school, didn't you? Well, I have a few of my own and when this is all over, I'll enjoy showing 'em to you."

"You were such a nice guy. What happened?"

"_Life_ happened."

She tried digging in again but he relentlessly dragged her toward the side exit. "We can help you. Protect you. It doesn't have to end like this for either of us."

"I don't _want_ protection. I _like_ my job. The pay is good and it has…perks." The last was said with a suggestive tone that made Jennifer's skin crawl. Whatever he had in store for her, it wouldn't be pleasant.

Russell's hand holding the gun hit the crash bar pushing the door to the parking garage open. Idly, Jennifer noted that it was the same place they'd staged Emma's "death" and her husband had been kidnapped.

They'd only gone a few feet when Russell jerked to a stop at the sound of a round being chambered followed by John's voice tight with anger. "One more step and what little brains you have'll be splattered all over this garage."

Jennifer pulled herself from Russell's lax grip and turned to see the most beautiful sight ever. Standing in a semi-circle around the two of them were not only John, Chuck, Amelia and Gin Stevens, but also Cam Mitchell, Daniel Jackson, Ronon, Dusty, Evan and Teyla.

Seeing that he was outnumbered and massively outgunned, Russell dropped his weapon and raised his arms, lacing his fingers behind his head. Looking into his face, Jennifer saw nothing of the affable teen she'd known so many years ago. His eyes were cold and dead when they met hers. She was brought out of her shocked state when John pulled her out of the way while Gin handcuffed Russell's hands behind his back.

"Russell Hollister, you are under arrest for treason, attempted kidnapping, for being a lousy tipper and for being an asshole. You have the right to _shut the hell up_. Any _stupid_ thing you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If your _ass_ can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed to your stupid ass at no cost. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?_"_

"Yeah."

Gin led him to a waiting cruiser letting a uniformed officer put Russell in and giving him a sickly sweet smile. "With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

"Hell no. I want my f***ing lawyer."

"Fine by me. See you later." Gin walked back to Sheppard's side, nodding that Hollister was gone_._

Jennifer sat in the back of an ambulance while a paramedic checked her over. Teyla hovered nearby. "I'm _fine_. Teyla, _tell_ them I'm fine."

"Please, Jennifer. Just let them do their job."

Cam and Daniel joined John, Ronon, Dusty and Evan. The members of the SGC looked at Gin when she insinuated herself into their little group. "What's next, guys? I am spoilin' for a fight."

The men exchanged glances. "Detective…"

"No! No! Do _not_ think you're doing this without me! I have been a part of this from the beginning. My partner _died_ because of this case and _I_ am finishing it."

"Relax," John said in a soothing tone. "Wouldn't think of doing this without you."

Jennifer almost laughed at the slack-jawed stare from Gin when Cam said, "How would you like to visit the Louisiana coast? There's a hurricane brewin' just off the coast promisin' fun times for everyone. We don't get 'em in Kansas so this'll be my first one…this year."

Gin looked from one face to the other. "I'm in."

Cam sidled up to John as they sorted everyone out and made plans. "I'm glad she's on _our_ side."

~~O~~

Before she knew what had hit her, Gin was in the back of an Air Force cargo plane with fifty soldiers armed to the teeth. She didn't have to look down to see that she was dressed in the same camo uniform and rain poncho.

Even the limited non-disclosure agreement Woolsey insisted she sign hadn't surprised. What _had_ surprised her was how fast this operation had been organized, though, now that she had time to think about it, the US government had to be ready for almost anything and this more than qualified.

Squashed between the sandy-haired Colonel Mitchell and a man with glasses who'd been introduced as Dr. Daniel Jackson, she looked around. She gathered that Jackson was a scientist and not a soldier though he handled the P-90 nestled in his arms with ease, as if he'd done it many times before.

She was also used to having Sheppard call all the shots, but he'd deferred to Mitchell when it came to crunch time. The two men had been sitting with their heads together along with several squad leaders talking strategy. The words "intel" and "recon" had been bandied about quite a bit. No doubt dispensing the information they'd gotten from "undisclosed sources" as well as the two Trust operatives who'd been in the room with them.

Gin hadn't known Emma, not even slightly meaning that their paths hadn't crossed personally _or_ professionally.

Araceli was an entirely different matter. She'd had dinner at the Velasquez home many times. They'd been friends for _years_, for gosh sakes! And all this time Araceli had been committing-she could barely even _think_ the word-treason. If they were allowed, she and Araceli would have a long talk about it.

Gin's life had been fine until she and Jase had caught the Kavanagh case. No husband or kids. No pets. Just a one-bedroom apartment that overlooked the pool, a guy she dated now and then when they both had time, her parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, and a job she loved. She was happy. Well, maybe happy was too strong a word. She was content and didn't want to upset the status quo.

She and Jase had just finished up a rough case and had made vacation plans. He was headed for Bermuda with his girlfriend and she was going to spend ten fun-filled days at Disneyland with her family. If only Jase hadn't picked up that last call…

No sense in recriminations. It was over and done with. Jase had made the ultimate sacrifice, but such was the life they'd chosen and she vowed long ago to never have regrets. She jerked out of her thoughts when Sheppard touched her on the arm.

"We're almost there. Once we're on the ground, don't go wandering around on your own. Stay on my six and do exactly as I say when I say. Got that?"

One side of her mouth twitched upward in a playful smirk. "Yes, Colonel."

The sound of the plane's engines changed signaling they were about to land. When the others slipped their goggles over their faces, she did too. Her fingers flexed and circled around the unfamiliar weapon, but she'd handled her share in the LVPD and adapted quickly.

The plane landed, rolled to a stop, the back opened and the troops poured out into the raging storm that was Hurricane Franklin. And as she'd been told, she kept Sheppard's backside squarely in her sights as they headed for the compound. The rush of adrenaline spiked and her heart pounded a staccato beat against the back of her sternum. She was scared, but she had also never felt more alive. _Too bad Jase isn't here to enjoy it with me._

It was still daylight, though the storm limited their vision. Hunkered down behind Sheppard, Gin could see the bulky forms of their companions crouching and moving through the underbrush as they took their places.

After receiving the ready signal from the other squads, Mitchell gave a double click on the radio and they went in for the kill.

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 20

Rodney stared at the battered woman on the floor at his feet. In the other cell, Rebekah went on and on, begging him to do. . .something. He couldn't! Just the sight of Marina's blood made him want to pass out, but he managed to buck up, as Sheppard would say, and stand there. The men who delivered her to his cell walked out and locked the door without a backwards glance.

Finally, Rebekah got through to him. _"Rodney!"_

The tone in her voice made his head snap up. "What?"

"Do something!"

"I. . .I can't! I mean, I'm not a doctor! I can't fix her!"

"You don't have to, Rodney." Rebekah stared at him, the one eye he could see worried but steady. No wonder Jackson had fallen for her. She slipped a hand out of her cell and pointed. "See the way she's laying. You can get her on the bed and try to stop the bleeding."

"With what?" McKay glared and then realized he wore a jacket. "Oh, right."

Moving quickly, he knelt next to Marina and rolled her onto her back. She groaned and started to wake up from the little "nap" she'd taken after landing on the concrete floor. She still didn't quite become aware until he manhandled her onto the one bed in his cell. Her blood got on his clothes, but he decided he could do this. He'd faced Wraith, the Genii, had been captured multiple times, and fought off the Replicators. If he could deliver Teyla's son, then he could handle giving first aid to one battered woman!

Behind him, Rebekah spoke. "That's good, Rodney."

"I'm not an idiot, you know!" he snapped, instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry. It's just. . .I'm not very good. . . .I'm not a doctor."

"I gathered," Rebekah said wryly.

Rodney began dabbing at the worst of the cuts on Marina's face. "How do you know so much about this stuff? If you're not part of what Dr. Jackson does, what do you do?"

Rebekah snorted. "I work at a bank." When he shot a disbelieving look at her, she shrugged. "I'm a writer, too. I do lots of research."

Silence fell between the two of them as Rodney worked. Rebekah watched closely for the entire time, giving him pointers if necessary. Marina started waking up after he'd used a dripping faucet in the cell to clean her face as best as possible. She opened one eye—the other was swollen shut—and stared at him. "Thanks."

Rodney tried to smile. "Hey, it was the least I could do. Besides, _she_ made me." He pointed over his shoulder.

Marina's eye moved in that direction, but she couldn't see her friend. "Why'm I in here?"

Rodney shrugged. "No idea. But you're bleeding all over the place, so I'm gonna. . . ."

He never got to finish that statement. The sound of gunfire came from outside the door. The two guards who had watched McKay closely reached into a cabinet and pulled out some heavy firearms. Shotguns, actually. McKay dove for the floor, his sense of self-preservation taking over as he tried to make sense of what had happened. Then, he realized he'd left an injured woman in harm's way. He grabbed her and unceremoniously deposited her next to him, overturning the bed for the minuscule protection it offered. "Get on the floor! Use your bed for a shield!" he hollered at Rebekah.

"And how am I supposed to do _that_?" she hollered back. "I _can't_ walk!"

"Just. . . ." McKay was at a loss and frustrated and just stopped talking.

The guards opened the door. A loud _pop-pop-POP_ echoed through the room, drawing a cry from Rebekah and a cringe from Rodney. When he looked up from his huddled position, however, he blinked when Sheppard ducked through the door. "Oh, thank God!"

Sheppard glanced around. "McKay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me. I am _so_ glad you're here. Do you know what kind of place this is?" McKay couldn't stop the babble. "I mean, it's not bad compared to some of the places we've been, but seriously! I haven't had anything to eat since I got here, and. . . ."

"McKay!" Sheppard's sharp snap brought him back to the present.

"Right." Rodney watched more men come through the door. Mitchell and Jackson secured the weapons their captors had held, and Teyla started searching for keys. She handed them over to Sheppard as Rodney realized the hole in their team. "Where's Ronon?"

"Upstairs," Sheppard answered him. "Anyone else here with you?"

Rebekah answered the question for herself. "Hello?"

Behind Sheppard, Jackson's head snapped up. "Rebekah?" He left Mitchell and rushed down the hallway, speaking softly as Rebekah dissolved into tears.

Sheppard grinned. "They're dating."

"I figured." McKay stood to the side as Jackson called for a medic. One hurried over to him, in spite of Rebekah's pleas that someone look at Marina. For a moment, Rodney didn't know what to say or how to say it. The ordeal had been horrifying, but he was escaping with only a few bruises. Marina, however, looked horrible. Amanda pushed McKay out of the way and knelt next to the injured woman, placidly calling for help and giving orders.

Sheppard tugged McKay out of the middle of the cell. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah." Rodney frowned. "Where's Jennifer?"

"She's waiting at the plane. Lorne's with her."

"Oh." All of a sudden, the room spun, and McKay frowned. It had been a long time since that power bar and even longer since his last meal. He felt his blood sugar levels drop and his knees go weak. "Okay."

Then, he unceremoniously passed out.

~~O~~

_Pop-pop-POP!_ The noise startled Rebekah so badly that she jerked and lost her balance. Her injured leg took a hit as she fell, and she couldn't stop the shout that came out. At this angle, she couldn't see anything that was happening, so she huddled on the floor and waited. People flooded into the room, and she vaguely heard Rodney comment to someone. Grabbing the bars, she pulled herself to her vantage point and tried to see around the corner. "Hello?"

"Rebekah?" The voice brought tears to her eyes, and she wasn't able to stop the emotional release when Daniel rushed down the cell toward her. "Hey, it's okay. I'm right here." He turned and hollered for keys.

"Daniel?" She reached through the cell. "Are you really here?"

"I'm here. Shh." He ran his fingers through her tangled hair while a small, exotic-looking woman unlocked the door. Then, he was inside and holding her as she cried. The woman didn't leave but gave them the space they needed.

Rebekah clung to Daniel, not minding the way his weapon poked her side or the Kevlar vest he wore or the smell of gunpowder that hung in the air. He held her and it was all going to be okay. She was getting out of here and going home. Once there, she could process what had happened between her and Marina. "Marina!" She pushed away from Daniel, trying to stand in spite of his protests. "They took her a little while ago, and when she came back, she'd been. . . ."

Daniel caught her before she did much more than flail around. "Hey, they got her. One of the best doctors we have is looking over her as we speak, and she'll be okay." He grabbed her face and forced her to look him in the eye. "She's okay," he said again.

"They took her."

"I know." He stood and, in one smooth motion, picked her up.

Rebekah wrapped her arms around his shoulders, grinding her teeth together when the move, no matter how gentle, jostled her injured leg. She wanted to bury her face in Daniel's shoulder and cry, but she refused to do so until she knew Marina was going to be okay.

Outside the cell, a large group of men and women waited while one worked over Marina's broken body. But Rebekah's friend was conscious and turned in her direction. No words were exchanged, but Marina simply nodded and closed the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. Another man with spiked black hair talked into a radio while Rodney was loaded onto his own gurney. The woman who unlocked her cell quickly informed Rebekah that he would be okay when he woke up. She accepted that, not quite processing everything that happened. There were too many strangers, too much activity. Colonel Mitchell patted her shoulder and then spoke softly to Daniel. She caught the words "hurricane" and "outside" but didn't hear much more. Her head ached, and her throat closed as she fought with her emotions.

"Daniel?"

He glanced down at her. "Yeah?"

"Can we go home now?"

He laughed. "As soon as we can take off through the hurricane, yes. But we _can_ get out of here."

As he carried her away from the prison, Rebekah buried her face in his shoulder and started crying. She didn't stop until they reached the upper levels of the compound—which she would later learn was a safe house for the Trust. Once alone, Daniel set her on a cot while he pulled off his Kevlar vest and weapon. Then, he tugged her back into his arms and held her as she cried herself to sleep.

~~O~~

**Stargate Command**

**One week later...**

The infirmary at Stargate Command didn't have decent views like the local hospital, but Rebekah wasn't complaining. The drab walls were safety to her even though, late at night, they reminded her of the prison where she'd been held. Daniel stayed during those hours, mostly just working in the light of a small lamp and quickly reminding her she was safe. She loved him even more for that.

Things had changed in the last week. Her new doctor, Carolyn Lam, told her that she would normally have been taken to the Air Force Academy hospital close by. But several members of the Trust, including William, had escaped the safe house during the chaos. Because he might still be after his lost "assets," which included Rebekah, she'd been brought to one of the safest bunkers on the face of the Earth. During the abduction, her leg had been reinjured. The work she'd already done had needed some help, so she wound up going through surgery less than forty-eight hours after her rescue. Rebekah had awakened to see Daniel sleeping in a chair while Colonel Mitchell read a magazine behind him.

She had met so many people in the last week. Daniel had brought General O'Neill, Murray, Vala, and Sam by to see her, all of them grateful she had survived her ordeal. He'd then introduced General Landry, Colonel Sheppard, Lieutenant-Colonel Lorne, and all the others who had participated in the rescue. After seeing the overwhelmed expression on her face, he walked alongside her bed as Dr. Lam wheeled her into a private room. After closing the door, he settled onto the edge of her bed and began telling her the most fantastic story she could imagine. She listened as he told of a young archaeologist brought in to translate a cover stone, never knowing the actual device was real. The young archaeologist opened the gate, went through to another world, and lived on _another planet_ with his _alien_ wife until another alien race kidnapped her. Then, he returned to Earth and began searching for her.

As she listened, Rebekah realized just how great a burden Daniel carried. His wife had been dead for nearly nine years, and in that time, he had traveled to hundreds. . .perhaps thousands. . .of other planets. Her world reeled as she struggled to digest it all. Daniel kept his story focused on him, on the Stargate and his work. But he promised to tell her more as she was able to hear it. Then, he presented her with the standard non-disclosure agreement, which she signed without thinking about it.

One thing had not been resolved, however, and Daniel never mentioned it. However, it ate at Rebekah, and she finally brought up the subject less than a week after her second surgery. "How's Marina?"

Daniel glanced up from the report he'd been reading. "Uh. . .she's good."

Rebekah nodded.

He set aside the report. "You should talk with her," he said softly.

She shook her head. "I don't even know who she is."

"You didn't know who I was until now."

"Yes, I did." She met his eyes. "You're a good man, Daniel. Probably the most amazing man I've ever met. And while I didn't know the full truth of what you do for a living, you still let me see _you_. I know _you_. Not Dr. Daniel Jackson of the SGC. But Daniel Jackson, the man afraid to lose again. The man who likes to write and laugh and enjoy coffee with friends. The man who isn't frightened when faced with impossibilities. You were honest with me and told me that your work was classified, that you couldn't talk about it. And I accepted that.

"Marina's different." Rebekah shifted and stared at the door across from her bed. "She lied to me, Daniel. Her name isn't even 'Marina' and I can't think of her as anything but 'Marina.' She didn't just betray me by pretending to be someone she's not. She betrayed our country—our _world—_and I bought it all. Hook, line, and sinker. I never even suspected."

"Did you ever stop to think that she _wanted_ to do those things?"

Rebekah laughed. "Yeah, like she _wanted_ to get me brought to this infirmary?"

"She did what she thought was the best thing for you."

"She did what she thought was best for _her_."

"You can't hold on to this forever." He leaned an elbow on his knee and stared at her. "Believe it or not, I've been where you're at. I've had a friend betray me."

"Really?"

"How do you think it felt when my _wife_ tried to kill me?" he asked with nothing more than gentleness in his voice. "The day she died. . . ." He shook his head. "I remember thinking I would never forgive Teal'c."

"Teal'c?"

"Murray."

"His real name's Teal'c?"

Daniel grinned slightly. "I knew I forgot to tell you something!" He chuckled at his own oversight. "Yeah, his name's Teal'c, and no he's not human."

Rebekah grabbed one of her pillows and threw it at him. "I need to know these things!"

Daniel caught the pillow and set it on his lap. His eyes told her that he wanted to get back on topic. "Look, just talk to Marina. Listen to her. It'll help."

Rebekah didn't answer him, choosing to glare at the door in response. Her mind whirled, though, as she tried to think about all the implications. It had been a week since her few hours as a Trust captive, and Marina hadn't tried to see her in all that time. Not once had anyone mentioned her name in connection with a visit. At first, Rebekah was grateful, but she now wished someone would give her some information. And Daniel wouldn't help.

It took another day for Rebekah to make up her mind concerning her former best friend. Daniel hadn't pushed her, choosing to stick to his guns about giving Rebekah information. Frustrated and knowing she wouldn't be able to move on in life until she did so, she finally nodded. "I'll talk to her."

Daniel, who had been working quietly at the table across the room, glanced up. "Who?"

"Marina."

He set down his pen and reached for his glasses. "You sure?"

"Yes." She met his eyes. Every day, he brought his work into her room and kept her company, telling her stories of his time with the Stargate Program. Some were funny, some weren't. It gave Rebekah a better idea of the man he was, and she could hardly believe someone like Daniel Jackson would stare at her with such affection in his eyes as he did when she simply called his name.

Now, he blinked. "Okay. I'll get a wheelchair, and we'll go."

While he tracked down the wheelchair, Rebekah sat up, ran a quick brush through her hair, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Dr. Lam had finally taken out her IV, and she loved the freedom. Still, she drew a scowl from Daniel when he returned. He didn't say anything as he helped her into the chair and turned her to the door.

The corridors of the SGC were busy, but no one gave Rebekah a second glance. The events in Las Vegas and Louisiana had been processed, and the curious stares had finally stopped. At another private room, Daniel pushed Rebekah inside. Rebekah stared at the woman in the bed. Marina lay with one arm propped on pillows, a cast showing that it had been broken. Her knee was elevated though not injured worse than a sprain. And her face was a rainbow of bruises, one eye still slightly swollen as it healed.

Rebekah's heart sank. Marina had been lying in here alone all this time?

Daniel set the brake on Rebekah's chair and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right outside."

Marina stared at Rebekah. "Hey."

Rebekah smiled slightly. "I heard you were hurt, but. . . ." Tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Marina shrugged, wincing when it pulled at injured muscles. "You didn't do anything."

"I didn't know you were this badly hurt."

"A beating does this to a person." Marina took a moment to breathe. "Rebekah, for what it's worth, I never meant for any of this to happen. I came to that writing group because I like to write. Nothing more. I didn't know Dr. Hottie would walk in or that you two would one day become an item or any of this. You really were my best friend."

For once, Marina's use of "Dr. Hottie" didn't upset Rebekah. "You were mine, too." She sighed. "What now?"

"Now, Marina Gonzales is going to disappear. She'll have. . .an accident while away to see family or something." Marina looked away from Rebekah as she said that. "It's how it has to be."

Rebekah nodded, not quite trusting her voice just yet. She stared at her hands and shook her head. "You know, I want to blame you for everything. But I can't."

"I blame myself."

"You shouldn't." Rebekah shrugged. "How were you to know that a man in _Las Vegas_, of all places, would be framed for murder and that it would reveal your cell of the Trust along with that one? How could you be responsible for stuff. . . ." She chuckled mirthlessly. ". . .for _crap_ above your pay grade?"

"You sound like him, you know."

"Who?"

"Daniel."

Rebekah smiled at that. "He's a good man."

"Does he know you feel that way?" Then, she sighed, obviously thinking she'd overstepped her bounds. "Never mind."

Rebekah leaned forward and touched Marina's hand. "So, 'Marina's' dying? Who's going to take her place?"

Marina shook her head. "I don't know."

The uncertainties in Marina's face broke Rebekah's heart, and she was finally able to let go of a little of her anger and bitterness. It would take a lifetime to fully forgive, but she could start right now. "When you do figure it out, let me know. Somehow. I want you to be okay."

The ghost of a smile touched Marina's face. "What about you? What are you going to do?"

Rebekah considered that for a moment and thought about all the times in the last week that she'd almost blurted out how she felt for Daniel. "I don't know. But I want Daniel to be part of it."

"You love him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then tell him."

"How long are you gonna be here?"

"I think they're moving me out in the next few days." Marina shifted in the hospital bed. "I'm glad you're okay, Beks." Then, she cringed. "Sorry."

"I'm glad you're okay, too."

A few minutes later, Rebekah wheeled herself out of the room and found Daniel waiting in the corridor. She didn't say anything as he took over steering her chair. Marina's words about him floated through Rebekah's head, and she realized that she needed to stop being afraid. Daniel wasn't Brody, and he had never once treated her with anything less than respect and genuine affection. She did love him, and telling him she loved him wouldn't change that. She failed to convince her heart of that, but she knew what she needed to do.

When the elevator came into sight, however, she frowned. "Where are we going?"

"My office," Daniel replied from behind her. "I thought you'd like a change of scenery."

Rebekah grinned as they rode the elevator down a few levels and watched curiously as they wound through the corridors. Daniel greeted quite a few people along the way, and she was surprised when they also waved or said hello to her. At his office, she took the time to really absorb the whole feel of the place. While technically a drab military office in an underground bunker, Daniel had transformed it into a cluttered archaeologist's haven. Hardly one ounce of the walls showed behind bookshelves, lamps, artifacts, and pictures. A framed picture of Sha're adorned one wall, but she also saw a framed picture of herself on his desk. He wheeled her directly to the couch he'd placed there and helped her get settled. Before he could get away, she grabbed his hand.

"Thanks."

He knelt down beside the couch. "Listen, Rebekah, there's a lot you still don't know, but there's something. . . ."

She put a finger on his lips to stop him from talking. "Me, first." For a moment, the office was silent as she wrestled with her own fears. Then, she blurted out the words she wanted to say. "I love you, Daniel."

A slow smile crossed his face. "That's good. 'Cause I was about to tell you the same thing." He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "I love you, Rebekah. And I always will."

~~O~~

Two weeks after their rescue from the Trust, Marina was released to go into the world. She'd recovered quickly, and makeup hid the majority of the bruises. While she'd been cloistered beneath the surface of Cheyenne Mountain, news had reached Colorado Springs that Marina Gonzales had been called away on a family emergency. A drunk driver struck her car, and she had died almost instantly. Marina read the obituary and sighed deeply. The time for regrets had passed, and she had a new life to live.

Leaving the infirmary with her hair straightened and freshly dyed blond, she ran into Colonel Cameron Mitchell. The man had stopped by her room once to leave paperwork for her to look over, but she hadn't found the time to connect with him since. Now, her regrets came roaring into the present.

She had loved this man. In the short time they'd been together, she had fallen in love with him and didn't want to imagine loving anyone else like she loved him. But he would never look at her with the same warmth in his blue eyes. Instead, he nodded. "So, it's Arianna Morales, now?"

"Yes." Marina walked gingerly, careful of healing ribs. "I've always wanted to live in California and become a beach babe in my spare time, so now's my chance."

Mitchell rolled his eyes at that. "How long until 'Arianna' goes a different route?"

Marina met his eyes. "Unless she's physically killed, she won't." She shook her head. "You might not believe it, but I really do care about you."

"Yeah, I can see that," he said sarcastically. After a moment, in which he took control of his own emotions, he frowned at her. "I liked you, but you destroyed what trust we had between us. I can't get over that."

"I'm not asking you to." She held up an envelope. "Would you at least give this to Rebekah? It's nothing that would give me away. Just a quick letter from a friend." She blinked back a few tears, surprised at how tough this parting had become.

Cameron took the letter. "Sure." He escorted her to the elevator. "I hope things work out, _Arianna_," he said, emphasizing her new name.

"Arianna" smiled sadly. "Me, too, Colonel. Take care of Dr. Jackson and Rebekah for me."

He nodded. "I will." Then, he paused and frowned again. "Take care of yourself, too."

She lifted one hand as the doors closed and then let out a deep breath as the elevator took her to the surface. Her life of lying and deceit was over, and she had been released to live a new way. From now on, she vowed that she would develop friendships based on truth—as much truth as she could give them while living under a fake name. The Trust would eventually be brought down, and she'd be allowed to resume the name of Nora Brown. In time. Walking into the parking garage and getting into the car General Landry had ordered to take her to the airport, she blinked back a few tears.

Marina Gonzales was dead. And, in her "death," she had left behind the best friends she had ever known.

~~O~~

Cam watched the elevators close, his chest feeling as if he'd been smacked by one of the Sodan's _krantu_ staffs. He'd liked Marina. . .a lot. Seeing Jackson so happy with Rebekah only highlighted just what Marina's lies had cost him. He once thought of himself as the "settling type," but recent events made him wonder if he'd ever find the right girl. Or if he _wanted_ to find the right girl. Did he have what it took to pick himself up from this fiasco and think about dating again? He hadn't loved Marina, not the way that Jackson loved Rebekah, but he knew he could have if they'd had enough time.

A lot had changed while Rebekah and Marina—_Arianna—_had recovered from their injuries. Landry had been called to Washington for meetings with the President and Secretary of Defense. General O'Neill returned with him, stating in no uncertain terms that the SGC would be starting up their own branch of intelligence work. That branch would focus on alien threats to Earth's security: the Goa'uld, the Trust, and the remnants of the Lucian Alliance. Anything that could infiltrate Earth's governments. They'd called for a large number of resources and, since the legendary SG-1 had gone their separate ways in recent months, had asked Mitchell to head up this new venture. He had refused, saying Agent Barrett of the NID was better suited for the job.

Turning from the elevator with all these thoughts in his head, Cam found Jackson leaning against the wall behind him. The archaeologist straightened. "So, she's gone?"

"Yeah." Cam frowned. "How's Rebekah?"

"Pretty upset." Jackson shrugged. "She lost her best friend, and it really hit her today after. . .Whatever-her-name-is-now left."

"She's going by Arianna." Cam eyed his friend. "Maybe it's better if she doesn't know."

Jackson chewed on the inside of his lip. "I can't lie to her, Mitchell. If she asks, I'll tell her."

Cam grinned suddenly. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Now that she knows what I do for a living, yes." Jackson met his eyes. "I've also talked with Jack, and he's ambivalent. Happy I'm happy but not thrilled I'm thinking about getting married. Again."

Cam blinked, trying to catch up with that statement. "You're getting married?"

"_Thinking_ about it." Jackson grinned at him.

"Oh." Cam nodded. "Congratulations." He left Jackson smiling like an idiot in the hallway and found his rarely-used office for a few moments of quiet. His trust in his ability to read a person had been shaken by Marina, and he knew it would take a long time to rebuild it. Jackson bounced back from things like this, not Cam.

With a sigh, he pulled out the form he'd been completing before Arianna's departure. He looked over it again and nodded. A vacation...that's what he needed. He knew it would take a while for all of this to settle, so he'd added the dates a month out with the proviso they could be changed. But he planned to get away some place unrelated to work, family, or any other thing in his life so he could just heal.

~TBC


	22. Chapter 21Epilogue

**A/N:** Well, this is it. The final chapter of the first ever writing collaboration between the talented, amusing, and absolutely adorable ladygris and me, the hilarious, inspiring, and wonderfully supportive theicemenace. (Her words, not mine. We'll take a short break for applause and laughter…Okay, that's enough.) We had a blast writing this story, however, we had no idea how much WORK *shudder* it would be to get all the details straight. Lots of fun though, and so worth it!

We would like to thank all who read and reviewed. For those who read, but didn't review, I have this to say: Thanks for reading, favoriting and following. If you would be kind enough to think about reviewing next time, we would appreciate it.

Namaste,

~ladygris & theicemenace

**Illusions**

**Chapter Twenty-one**

"Why is this _taking_ so long? I could've _walked_ to the plane in less time than…"

"Rodney?"

At the sound of his wife's frantic voice, Rodney attempted to kick off the blanket covering him and get off the stretcher while it was moving. "Jennifer!"

Evan stepped to his side, a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. "Take it easy, doc. She's right here." Smiling, Evan looked over his shoulder as Jennifer ran down the ramp to her husband's side. He stepped back to give them privacy when they started kissing.

She framed his face with both hands, her thumbs brushing rain and dirt from his face skirting the edge of his swollen lip. "My poor Rodney. What did they _do_ to you?"

"Nothing. Well, not much. I, uh, passed out. You know, from hypoglycemia and Sheppard insisted." He stayed still while she checked him over then returned to kiss him again. "I thought you were…he-he showed me a video and told me…"

"He _tried_ to kidnap me. Cam led the rescue team."

"But…"

"Honey, all I got was a bruise. I promise you. I'm _fine_."

Barely able to speak, Rodney gathered her into a hug. "I love you _so much_."

"Oh, honey. I love you too." They looked up into the sky when a Gulfstream took off amidst heavy gunfire. The wings tilted side to side in the wind as the last of Hurricane Franklin broke up over land.

~~O~~

Over the next few hours, the SGC personnel crushed the few remaining fragments of resistance and rounded up the last of the Trust operatives. Well, the ones that weren't smart enough to get when the getting was good. Two bodies made John especially gleeful: Eddie and Carlos. Ronon had blasted them without even blinking.

Leaving behind a contingent to inventory the armory, pack up the equipment and close up the compound, Cam, John, Daniel, Rodney and Evan got together to catch up.

"…from all witness accounts, the biggest wig to get away was an operative named William. According to Barrett, William's real name is," Cam consulted his smart phone, "Nicholas Elder. He's a wealthy day trader originally from El Paso, Texas. He now resides in a small town in southern California. How much you wanna bet he's moved on?"

Still holding the sleeping Rebekah's hand, Daniel grinned. "I never bet on a sure thing." He looked down at Rebekah. "Well, almost never."

Yawning, Cam put his phone away and rubbed his eyes. "There's one thing I don't get."

John snorted. "Just _one?_"

Cam waved a hand to take in everyone. "None of _us_ killed that loudmouth Kavanagh."

Taking a bottle of water from one of the soldiers, Rodney asked, "Yeah. So?"

"So-o…who killed him?"

Teyla sighed wearily and leaned against Evan's side. He looked down at her with a loving smile. "I was wondering that myself. Any insights, sir?" The last was aimed at John.

John got a thoughtful look in his hazel eyes and he took a long drink of water before speaking. "I've given the matter a lot of thought. The facts are everyone who has ever known Kavanagh hated his ass."

"Right. Go on." Cam pulled several power bars from his pants and offered them to his companions. Gin and Jennifer accepted his offer.

Sitting back and looking at the expectant faces, John proclaimed, "Who _cares_ who killed him? He's dead and the Trust is being blamed."

Groans went around the group and back to John with Cam throwing his wrapper at him.

"Dr. McKay?" Gin winced when she roused Rodney from a lite doze. "What did they want?"

The physicist huffed and rolled his eyes. "A member of their 'royal family' has gone missing and they thought _we_ had something to do with it. I've never even _heard_ of her."

Cam took out his smart phone, finger poised to enter information. "What's her name, doc?"

"Simone."

"I'll have Barrett check it out."

"I have a few comments and a question." Everyone turned their attention to Gin again. "When Jase and I first took this case, we were absolutely certain you were the bad guys and all we had to do was prove it. I know different now, but still. Secret terrorist organizations, black ops, scientists who carry on like seasoned soldiers." Gin glanced at Daniel and he gave her a "Who? Me?" look. "What gives?"

Evan shifted Teyla so he could put his arm around her when soft snores signaled that she'd fallen asleep. Keeping his voice low, he deadpanned, "Sorry to burst your bubble, Detective Stevens, but sometimes the good guys…" his lips twisted into an ironic grin, "…are the only bad guys you get."

**A Few Months Later**

**Somewhere in Bermuda**

Stars twinkled above as Cam strolled along the boardwalk, hands in his pockets and his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to show the white tank he wore underneath. He'd been in this paradise for three whole days and still hadn't found a woman to spend some semi-anonymous quality time with. Many Americans came through, but they were mostly couples, groups of middle-aged women or college co-eds. While the second group was more his speed, apparently he wasn't theirs. They had invited him to join them for tours and drew him into their circle when they found him eating alone, but that was it. Just for something to do, he played games with the women when invited or lay in the sun with a book propped up in front of him to avoid talking.

On the evening of day four, he decided to take a walk through an area he hadn't explored yet. Raucous rock music lured him to a small, out of the way place called The Tiki Hut. An unassuming name for an unassuming little bar and he loved it immediately.

Inside, only a few tables were occupied by couples and a few singles. Two men dressed much the same as Cam played pool in the corner. A couple at the bar shoved quarters into tabletop slot machines whooping for joy when they won back their losses.

A young woman stood at the end of the bar talking to an elderly man while a man the size of Teal'c tended bar.

Choosing a seat at the bar, Cam rested his hip on the edge of a bar stool and waited to be noticed. The woman excused herself and came to him with a bright smile. Her hair was blond, loose around her shoulder and her eyes were a sparkling blue. Freckles sprinkled her cheeks and nose courtesy of the sun. She wore a pink sleeveless top and white capris. Flip-flops with an enormous pink and white flower glued to the top completed the outfit which neither attracted nor repelled.

"Hi. Welcome to the Tiki Hut."

"Thanks. I was beginnin' t' think I had bad breath or somethin'."

"What d'you mean?"

"You're the first female even _close_ to my age to speak to me and not be asking directions for her and her husband." She laughed. A sound that made him smile for the first time that day. He peered closer. "Y'know, you look kinda familiar."

Crouching behind the counter, her laugh drifted up to him again. "Does that line _ever_ work?"

Genuinely confused, Cam's eyebrows drew together over his nose. "What line?"

She got to her feet, bottles of rum and tequila in her arms. "You really don't know, do you?"

"No."

Reaching into a cooler, she pulled out a bottle of Sam Adams, twisted the top off with a towel and set it in front of him. "Just so your night won't be a total loss, it's on the house."

"How d'you know this is my brew?"

Her eyes danced with glee as she opened a bottle of tangerine soda for herself. "Lucky guess."

Saluting her with the bottle, Cam returned her grin. "Well, here's to lucky guesses and just plain gettin' lucky."

"Sorry, but I make it a point never to date flyboys." She set her bottle aside and started wiping down the counters.

He turned to keep her in sight as she rounded the end of the bar and began upturning chairs onto the tables closest to him. He got up to help her. "I guess I'm confused again. How did you…never mind. Guess I'll just walk away with m' tail between m' legs."

"Stay. I'm closing up in an hour. We can talk. As long as you understand that it's _just talk_."

With a grin, he made a small bow. "I would never presume otherwise…sorry, didn't catch your name."

"Haley."

Cam wasn't sure, but it seemed as if she'd been about to say something else. He dismissed it as his imagination. His recent encounter with Marina had him paranoid, that's all. "I accept, Haley." He pointed to himself. "Cam."

"I have to make a quick phone call, Cam. Don't go away."

"I won't." Raising his voice, he asked again, "Are you sure we don't know each other?"

"Does anyone _really_ know anyone else?"

He chuckled. "You got a point. If you've got some macaroons, I'll take a couple."

~~O~~

In the back room, Haley picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. She spoke for a few minutes then hung up and with this one call, the last vestiges of the young woman who had once been Emma disappeared along with the last of the money in a series of offshore accounts.

She'd kept some of the money for herself. Just enough to buy the bar and to keep it in the black until it started turning a profit. But the majority of the funds had been given to various charities in the names of the casinos from where they'd been hustled. Originally, the money was to have gone to further the objectives and ambitions of the Trust. Haley grinned to herself at the thought of the looks on the faces of William and his superiors when they found out the money was gone.

And that brought her back to the guest waiting in the other room.

Just before sending her off into the great unknown, Chuck and John had filled her in on what had happened with Colonel Cameron Mitchell and the Trust operative Daisy AKA Marina Gonzales. She'd seduced him in order to get information on his highly classified job leaving him with a broken heart and wary of getting close to another woman.

Using her talents for reading people, she hoped to show him that not all women were like Marina. That contrary to his recent experience, he was more than capable of finding the forever kind of love he deserved. All he had to do was keep his heart open to the possibility.

Getting to her feet, Haley Rose, as she was now known, called out, "Rack 'em up, Cam, and maybe I'll let you beat me at a couple of games of eight-ball."

"Let?" He laughed. "You're on."

Haley chose a cue, chalking it up as she watched Cam set up the game. He handed her the cue ball and stepped back. "Ladies first."

Grinning, Haley lined up her shot. The tip of her cue stick smacked the white cue ball, it slammed into the triangle of balls scattering them over the field of green. The two and the ten dropped into holes on opposite sides of the table. "Never said I was a lady."

~~O~~

A few weeks after their triumph at the Trust compound, Gin was sitting in her apartment with Jase's cat on her lap when someone knocked on her door. Opening it, she was surprised to see the smiling faces of John Sheppard and Cameron Mitchell. She let them in, offered drinks and sat down. The cat climbed into her lap again and she stroked her hand down his back. "What's this all about guys?"

Cam nodded for John to continue. "Detective Stevens, have you ever given a thought to changing jobs?"

"Not recently. Why?"

Taking a small remote from his pocket, Cam got to his feet followed by John. Gin pushed the cat off and stood as well. "We'd like to show you something, if you have a few minutes."

"Sure. I'll get my jacket."

"You won't need it. Just stand here." John pointed to the space between the men.

Cam pressed the remote and the three of them disappeared. When they were gone, the cat walked over to sniff the patch of carpet where they'd been standing, twitched his tail and went into the kitchen for a drink before sauntering into the bedroom to stretch out in the exact geographic center of the bed.

~~O~~

Arianna Morales left Colorado Springs immediately and moved to Santa Barbara, California. There, she managed to get into the University of California-Santa Barbara's English program and complete her undergraduate studies. After graduation, she got a job for the _New York Times _and relocated to New York City. Her job as a journalist started small, but she eventually worked her way up into an investigative journalist position. Almost ten years after her heartbreak in Colorado Springs, she met FBI agent Cade Williams. When it became obvious she loved him as much as she'd ever loved Colonel Cameron Mitchell, she told him the entire story of her past. Cade didn't respond well at first, but he eventually came around and accepted her for who she was. They married less than six months after her confession, and Arianna and Cade Williams retired to Lake Placid when his career with the FBI ended.

~~O~~

Daniel Jackson and Rebekah Jacobs married six months after her abduction by the Trust. Rebekah continued writing novels, though with a different purpose in mind. The SGC helped her publish her first book, and the role of public relations through telling stories gave her writing meaning as well as worrying her. She often read her husband's reports and alternated between wanting to smack him upside the head and hugging him for what he went through in the field. She continued leading her writers group, especially after her first book was published.

Daniel continued to go through the gate on missions, though his work with SG-1 eventually came to an end. With Vala and Keret officially married and Teal'c torn between his duties to the remnants of the Jaffa Nation and Earth, the legendary SG-1 broke apart. Daniel found himself enjoying more and more archaeological missions instead of actual combat, though he did have his fair share of adventures.

Daniel and Rebekah had two children, Samuel Lee and Valerie Amanda. Samuel grew to have too much fun going by "Samuel L. Jackson" and seeing how many people could connect him to the well-known actor. As the years passed, the number sadly got smaller. Valerie, however, spent more time with Vala than Daniel liked, learning ways to wrap her daddy around her little finger.

~~O~~

Marjorie Warlock returned to California and a few months later, she accepted an appointment as a judge in the Los Angeles county courts.

After years of being involved in a long distance romance, Marjorie married Richard Woolsey and they adopted two Yorkshire terriers on whom they doted.

Following a stellar career putting criminals in prison, she retired from the bench to teach law at Berkeley. Now retired as well, Woosley played golf, guest lectured at colleges and universities around the world, and kept his hand in at the SGC as a consultant.

~~O~~

Chuck and Amelia finally went on their honeymoon, returning to their positions in Atlantis where they reside to this day with their children, Sunny, Josiah, Oliver and Payton, and grandchildren, Kayla, Connor, Zoey, Blake, Dariah, Miles and Harper.

~~O~~

Dusty Mehra married Ronon Dex three years after the incident in Las Vegas. And though they never had children of their own, they did adopt several over the years. They too reside in Atlantis where Ronon, Dusty and Teyla operate the school.

~~O~~

When they found out that William had gotten away, Emma, Araceli and her son stayed in hiding until it was deemed safe for them to assume their new identities.

Araceli and Phillip Velazquez took the names Heidi and Travis Gaynor. Heidi met and married a Canadian accountant by the name of Harry Greene. They moved to Toronto and lived happily ever after.

~~O~~

The Trust operative known as William surfaced three months after the events at the safe house to fill the void left when Simone disappeared. And though he and his subordinates made many…inquiries, Simone, the former leader of the North American Trust cell, was never seen again.

~~O~~

Amanda Cole and John Sheppard were together for nearly five years before she finally agreed to marry him. By this time, they already had one child, John Junior, JJ to his friends and family. Their second child, Constance Elizabeth, was born one year after John returned to Earth to command the space fleet. By the time the kids were out on their own John had been given command of the SGC.

When their first grandchild turned ten, John took over as the head of Homeworld Security. Amanda was made the head of medical research for the SGC.

They eventually retired and now live a life of leisure on Hawaii's big island where they can surf whenever the urge hits them.

~~O~~

Two years after their return to Atlantis, Evan and Teyla were joined in a traditional Athosian ceremony with only their son and closest friends in attendance. They too had children as well as adopting others who had been left alone for one reason or another.

Evan was eventually made the expedition commander. The position transitioned to a civilian post when Atlantis was declared an independent Earth colony. Evan retired from the Air Force to continue in the position.

~~O~~

Colonel Cameron Mitchell planned to remain a perpetual bachelor. After events with Marina, he found it difficult to trust anyone outside of the SGC. He and Jackson became very close friends, with Cam filling in as godfather to the Jackson children. While he longed for a little girl to call him "Daddy" the way Daniel's daughter did, he wasn't ready to give that much of himself away.

For the next several years, he worked with the SGC as it organized its intelligence network. Then, he received command of Earth's newest battleship and made multiple trips to Atlantis when the _Daedalus_ was decommissioned. During one such trip, he accompanied Sheppard on a trip to the mainland. There, he met Ayanna, an Athosian widow with two children of her own. The two of them hit it off immediately, and Cam found her to be more than trustworthy. He took a risk and gave his heart to her, and she never betrayed him. They had two more children, filling their quarters on his ship and their dwelling with her people with laughter, life, and most importantly, love.

~~O~~

Rodney and Jennifer went on their delayed honeymoon to Hawaii and exactly nine months to the day afterward, welcomed a set of twins, Samantha Elizabeth and Hunter John. When the twins left Atlantis for university, the McKays returned to Earth to take teaching positions, Rodney with MIT and Jennifer at John's Hopkins.

A few years later, the twins married. Eventually they presented Rodney and Jennifer with grandchildren: Max, Hannah, Gabrielle, Jeremiah, Lucy, Noah, Crystal, Elijah, Melody and Jared.

**The End**


End file.
